


The Art of Love

by Sloth_Race



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Brothels, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Prostitution, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sloth_Race/pseuds/Sloth_Race
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a trip to Denerim, Cullen is caught in a rainstorm and forced to find overnight accommodations in a nearby establishment, Le Cygne D'Or. The only problem? It's a brothel, and he doesn't recognize it until his pride won't let him back out.</p><p>Without anywhere else to go, Cullen ends up crashing in the room of Le Cygne's newest courtesan, Ellana Lavellan. The two instantly hit it off and Cullen and Ellana begin a perfectly friendly relationship, unencumbered by silly things like love.</p><p>... Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Night

The heavy summer rain had been steadily falling since late afternoon, soaking Cullen to the bone. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have been such a terrible thing except that he had chosen to wear his fur pauldrons on the journey to Denerim – the same fur pauldrons that now hung heavy around his shoulders, making him smell like a wet dog.

Perfect for a trip to Ferelden, he thought dryly.

Cullen sighed and wiped the rain off his forehead as his horse trudged through the now-darkened streets of Denerim. This was supposed to be a simple trip - meet with Cassandra to discuss how to reposition Inquisition soldiers as the Divine’s new peacekeeping contingent. Four nights and five days in total, then return to Skyhold.

Simple.

It had been anything but.

The seasonal rains had turned the road to Denerim into a soggy mire, causing his dappled grey warhorse to founder through the wet mud for the last three miles. As a result, the stallion’s flanks were spattered with heavy, black mud.

When his exhausted horse had finally trudged past the city gates that evening, Cullen had thought the hardest part of his journey had ended. He learned quickly how sorely mistaken he was. Despite searching for the better part of two hours, he had been unable to find a single available room in any inn.

It was all Cassandra’s fault, he thought with frustration as he rode through the steady rain. Not directly, of course, but it was cathartic to have someone to blame.

The reason for the lack of rooms was simple. Word had reached the faithful that the Divine would be coming to Denerim to meet with the King and the Inquisition. That meant that all the inns, from the luxurious to the downright seedy, were filled with pilgrims eager to receive her blessing. That also left an ill-prepared Cullen wandering around Denerim in an attempt to find a room at a time when most people had begun to prepare for bed.

His search did not look promising. At the last inn he stopped by, the grey-haired innkeeper had snorted sympathetically at Cullen as he approached the bar, bedraggled and exhausted.

“Ain’t a single room here,” the man had said regretfully. “Not for the next two weeks or so. The only place you might find a room now would be the Le Cygne d'Or, and even then, it’d cost you all the money in your purse and a third of your soul.”

Well beyond exhausted, Cullen had briskly asked for the directions. He didn’t care what it cost, he just wanted to sleep. With an odd look, the innkeeper had pointed him towards the wealthiest part of town and Cullen had strode back outside, dismissing the innkeeper's earnest concerns for his soul.

Fifteen minutes later, Cullen found himself outside of lavish looking building, double-checking a nearby pillar with a bas-relief swan and the words “Le Cygne d'Or” etched below.

He squinted up through the sheets of rain to survey the inn. It was an elegant, three-storey town house, surrounded by wrought iron gates and manicured boxwoods. Exactly what you’d expect from a luxurious Val Royeaux inn, which, Cullen supposed, was precisely the point.

At that thought, Cullen sighed deeply. The hotel did look incredibly expensive. He really would have preferred to pitch a tent on the outskirts of town, but the constant rain would have made it supremely difficult to set up. It was a moot point, really. He hadn’t even packed a tent this time, opting to stay at inns and taverns on the journey.

In all honestly, the money would be no issue. The Inquisition had paid him well over the past two years. He simply found the idea of staying in such an opulent inn – especially one that catered to Orlesian nobility – an uncomfortable prospect.

Resigned to his fate, Cullen patted the stallion’s wet, solid, neck and squeezed his heels, urging the horse down the cobbled laneway towards the inn’s stables. He would stay here tonight regardless of the price, then look for alternative arrangements tomorrow.

As he reigned his horse under a covered overhang, a masked groomsman appeared from the stables. Cullen swung himself down from the stallion and watched as the man took the reins and guided his horse away towards a warm, dry stall.

With his exhausted mount now safe and sound, Cullen darted to the nearest door where a liveried servant awaited under a heavy canvas awning. The man, who wore a rich purple tabbard emblazoned with a stylized golden swan, silently nodded to Cullen and opened the door. Nodding his thanks in return, Cullen stepped into the building, only to cringe at the utter _Orlesian-ness_ of it all – the inn had all the decadence of the Winter Palace, only on a smaller scale.

_Andraste help me from throttling anyone before the night is through._

Cullen stood inside the doorway surveying the inn, mud splashed up his thighs, his hair wetly plastered to his head. In front of him was a wide, marble staircase that led up to two floors of rooms, open to the main hall. The downstairs was set up like a lounge where members of the nobility sat on gilded couches, sipping wine while a harpist played in the corner of the room.

As he stood dripping on what was undoubtedly a very expensive carpet, a slim, elegantly dressed middle-aged woman swept up to him, politely ignoring his appearance. Like the other employees he had encountered so far, she wore an Orlesian mask made of black velvet.

“Welcome to the Le Cygne d'Or.” The woman purred to him in heavily accented common tongue. “How can I be of assistance?”

Cullen ran his fingers through his wet hair, willing himself to keep the distaste from his voice.

“Do you have any free rooms?” He asked, praying for a positive answer. “I’d like to stay the night.”

“I do.” She nodded gracefully. “If you’d like to join me in the study, we can discuss how much you are looking to spend.”

Cullen frowned momentarily. What an odd statement.

“There aren’t set prices for each room?”

“It depends on the lady, messere. Fees range anywhere from 5 to 12 sovereigns a night. If you’d like, we can discuss this more privately in the study.” She repeated, then gestured to a heavy wooden door to his left.

Cullen nearly choked on the sum. That was quite a lot – he could buy a decent sword for that price.

Wait. What had she meant by ‘the lady’?

Suddenly suspicious of her words, Cullen took a better look around him.

With a sinking feeling, he realized that all of the noblewomens' dresses were cut far too low for this to be a normal inn. Additionally, the women themselves were not exactly paragons of good society. One red-haired woman was firmly perched in an older gentleman’s lap, giggling coquettishly at his quiet words, her hands sliding into his finely tailored shirt. In another corner, a beautiful, dark-skinned brunette was straddling a seated young nobleman who looked up at her with a pleased half-grin on his face. The grin quickly faded as the brunette rolled her hips and the noble let out a stifled groan.

Oh. _Oh._

He was in a _brothel._

He was in a brothel and he was fairly certain that at least one couple was engaged in public sex in one form or another.

Cullen flushed the same colour as his mantle.

_Maker’s fucking breath. What a bloody day._

The only thing that stopped him from turning on his heel and marching out the door was the fact that his mount was now warmly stabled, munching on fine oats and likely having the mud brushed from his flanks. The idea of putting the wet tack back on the poor horse and heading out into the rain again made Cullen slump his shoulders in defeat. Also, he reminded himself, this was the only place with rooms.

“Fade take it.” He exhaled quietly, remembering that the lady was waiting for his answer. “Is it possible to just stay in an empty room?”

The lady arched a fine eyebrow that rose up above her mask. “This is not an inn.” She remarked, her voice tinged with a touch of exasperation. “The rooms belong to the women. If you wish to stay the night, it would be in one of their rooms.”

Cullen fought off the urge to snap at the proprietor. He was exhausted, soaked, and not in the mood to deal with Orlesian bullshit.

“Can I just pay and sleep on her floor? I’ve been traveling for hours and all I want to do is sleep.”

The proprietor shrugged gracefully. “What you do with the lady is not for me to know. Discretion is our business.”

Cullen frowned and cast another quick look around. The brothel was certainly warm, dry, and pleasant smelling. He could just hire the room, and the lady, then politely tell her that all he wished to do was sleep. Perhaps she’d have a couch in her room, although, at this point, he’d be completely willing to pass out on her floor. He could leave in the morning to find a cheaper, less scandalous, place to stay. He would come off as an uncouth barbarian, but frankly, he didn’t give a nug’s shit at this point.

“Alright.” He sighed, too fatigued to protest even this.

“Forgive my frankness, but we require proof of recompense.”

Cullen scowled and reached to his belt to grab his money purse. He shook a pile of sovereigns into his hand and opened the bag to show there was more, making it clear he had the means to stay.

The lady nodded. “If you’ll come with me.” Without waiting for his answer, she swept to his left, past the harpist and through a dark blue door at the other side of the lounge.

Obediently, Cullen followed her into another lavishly decorated room, taking a childish pleasure at all the mud he was tracking onto the floor. When they reached the door, she ushered him into the study, although there wasn’t a desk to be had.

“If you’d like to sit…” She gestured to an uncomfortable-looking couch, another gilt monstrosity with legs in the shape of lion’s claws.

“No, thank you.” He replied in clipped tones. _Let’s get this over with._

She nodded politely again and moved to a sideboard where she rang a small, golden bell.

“Do you have any preferences?” She asked, setting the bell back down.

Cullen waved an agitated hand.

“None. Just… It doesn’t matter.”

Silence fell and Cullen ran a hand through his damp hair again, frowning as he felt it beginning to tighten into curls. _Void._ He was thankful that none of his clothing bore the Inquisition insignia. Although he was sure Josie could sort it out, the last thing he wanted to do was cause any sort of scandal.

As he dwelled on the potential repercussions of his actions, the door at the far side of the room opened smoothly and two young, dark haired women gracefully stepped into the room, their skirts swaying slightly. As they did, he noticed the proprietor’s eyebrows narrow as she looked at the door expectantly.

Another moment later and there was a clattering noise and a pretty blond elf belatedly stepped into the room. Unlike the other two women, she had long, blonde hair, pinned up with two golden leaf clips. Her dress was sleek, made of layers of diaphanous white cloth instead of stiff skirts, and it was sewn with a sinuous green vine design that climbed up from her hem.

As the elven woman moved to join the other women, her slipper caught on the tassels of the carpet and she tripped, landing on her hands and knees in front of him.

“Oh, nug’s butt!” She cursed quietly under her breath after a startled pause, loud enough so that everyone heard.

Cullen couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in amusement. The mild curse, delivered with a heavy Orlesian accent, was so out of place that he had to grin.

Remembering his manners, Cullen moved –too late- to offer her a hand. Not seeing his gesture, she climbed to her feet and stood up, somehow graceful despite her predicament. Shooting him a sheepish smile, she moved to stand beside the other women, all the while stubbornly ignoring the stern glare she was receiving from the proprietor.

Cullen had to hide a grin at the entire exchange.

With the ladies now all upright, the proprietor made an elegant gesture to the woman.

“Would you like to pick? Should these ladies not meet your requirements, I can arrange for others.”

At her prompting, Cullen surveyed the women, all the while feeling like a complete and utter asshole. How men enjoyed this, he had no idea. He couldn’t imagine what the women thought of him at this moment. …Actually, he could.

‘Here is a gruff-looking, mud-soaked pervert, and hey! He smells worse than a soaking wet mabari. _Fantastic._ I hope he picks Patricia.’

Feeling embarrassment colour his features at his own thoughts, he eyed the ladies in front of him and instructed himself to get this over with quickly. He was more than ready for bed.

The first lady was likely Fereldan, given her features. She was dressed in soft pinks, her brown hair braided in a low knot. She was certainly pretty – the kind of woman that a man would gawk at appreciatively in the market.

The second lady before him was raven-haired and dressed in the most in-fashion Orlesian style gown – a black and emerald dress that hugged her waist and flared out at her thighs. Her hair was swept back and twisted up elegantly, and, despite her apparent background, she wore no mask. The lack of a mask made it easy to see that she had absolutely stunning dark blue eyes. Dangerous eyes, he thought. She didn’t smile like her Ferelden counterpart. She smirked. Although she was by far the most beautiful of the three, Cullen instantly ruled her out.

Finally, he cast his eyes on the blond elven woman, who distractedly scratched her elbow, then stopped, embarrassed at being caught. She shot him a wry grin, seemingly acknowledging to him that she was the odd one out and knew it well.

The corner of Cullen's lip twitched up at her antics. There was something friendly and low-key about her, as if she didn’t quite belong here. He found it comforting, given how out-of-place he felt. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind if he stayed on her couch for the night.

“What is your name?” Cullen asked, trying to smooth the grouchiness out of his voice.

“Ellana, Messere.” She remarked, politely curtsying.

“She is our newest girl, straight from Val Royeaux.” The proprietor clarified abruptly. As she spoke, she handed him a small card made of thick cardstock. Cullen looked down and saw it was a… price list? A summary?

 

5 sovereigns per night

Oral play accepted

Special requests considered

At the request of the lady, no violence will be permitted

 

Cullen balked as he read the words. There was something about this exchange that made him distinctly uncomfortable, as if they were bargaining over horses at the Redcliffe fair. As much as he enjoyed sex with a loving partner, this felt wrong. To make matters worse, all four women were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to choose.

He was just going to sleep, he reminded himself. Nothing more. There was no reason to feel guilt in this matter, and he was sure that the lady he chose wouldn’t mind if she got to simply relax for the night.

“May I…” He nodded to the elven lady, directing his question to her instead of the proprietor. “Would you like to…”

The blonde elf smiled, deep and genuine, and bobbed a short curtsy in acceptance.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen noticed a deep frown flit across the Orlesian courtesan’s face before it was quickly smoothed away.

_What was that about?_

With the decision made, the elven lady stepped to the side, her hands clasped in front of her as the other two courtesans elegantly disappeared back out the door they had come from. When they were gone, the proprietor rounded on him.

“There are strict rules here. Weapons are forbidden in the ladies’ rooms. I can assure you that they are not necessary there. In order to keep the ladies safe, weapons will be locked in the office, and patrons will be given a key to the footlocker where they will be stored.”

Cullen frowned, but nodded. It made sense. Obediently, he removed his sword, pulled a dagger from his boot, and handed her both.

The proprietor set the weapons on the sideboard and went on, as if she had given this speech a thousand times.

“All men are required to wear sheaths. If a lady believes you are ill, she will decline the assignation.”

 _Maker’s breath._ Well, good to know they had standards. He rubbed his neck and nodded.

“Finally”, she went on, “Unless specifically approved by the woman, no violence is permitted. This is very strictly enforced.” The proprietor glanced down to his sword, now laying beside her on the polished wood surface. “We have an ex-chevalier here at all times, and a well-trained staff. Should a patron commit any violence, we are certainly prepared to deal with the situation with force.”

Cullen nodded, not trusting himself to say more. The proprietor nodded in return, finally satisfied.

“Ellana can tell you anything else you need to know. Should you need anything else, feel free to ask a servant for assistance.”

With a polite incline of her head, she swept from the room with his weapons held firmly in her hands.

That left Cullen standing awkwardly with the slender elven courtesan, his clothing still dripping slightly on the rug and the smell of wet fur in his nose. He glanced over at the woman, who was looking at him with thoughtful eyes.

_What she must think of me…_

“Still raining.” She said with a pretty smile. “We can do something about that.” She paused, pursing her lips. “We can do something about the clothing, I mean. Not the rain. That would be ah… difficult. Can't do anything about rain.” She paused again, and Cullen thought he saw her roll her eyes as if she was chiding herself on her clumsy attempt at small talk.

“If you’ll come with me?” Ellana asked more confidently a moment later, gesturing to a tucked away staircase to his right.

Cullen nodded and followed her to the staircase, staying a few paces behind her as she ascended, holding up her skirts, just enough to allow her to climb the stairs. They climbed silently to the second floor, then turned down a short hallway with plush carpet.

“This is my room.” She stated, arriving at a glossy black door. With a shy look, the young elven woman took his hand and stepped into the room, pulling him gently along with her. The small, feminine hand felt foreign, yet warm and welcoming. How long had it been since a woman held his hand? Months? Years?

Without a backward glance, Cullen let himself be led into the elven courtesan’s room, not even flinching when the door clicked shut loudly behind him.

 


	2. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen realizes that staying overnight in a brothel might not be such a bad thing after all.

Cullen found himself standing in a bedroom that could safely be called the exact opposite of his own. Where he had barrels for furniture, Ellana had elaborately carved oak dressers, polished until they shone. Where he had a simple bed with threadbare cotton sheets, she had a large, Orlesian style bed with richly dyed red bedclothes and crisp, white linens.

The rest of the room was furnished with a small, upholstered couch – too short for anyone but Varric to sleep on – and a porcelain tub, mostly hidden by a privacy screen. A bank of glass windows completed the opulent room, the tall glass panes running across the entire opposite wall.

All in all, it was exactly what Cullen would have guessed a courtesan’s room would look like – garish yet luxurious, and free of any personal touches. It also failed to give him a single clue about Ellana’s personality.

At that thought, he realized that the slender blonde elf was still holding his hand.

“Messere?” She asked, watching him expectantly as she let go. “My apologies. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Ah… it’s Cullen.” He faltered, and then inwardly cursed. He probably should have given her a false name, but he was admittedly too exhausted to be thinking strategically at the moment.

“Cullen.” She repeated in her pleasantly accented voice, committing his name to memory. “I’m Ellana.”

He nodded, recalling how the brothel’s proprietor had used her name earlier.

“Ellana … I need to clarify something. “ He dragged his hand over his mouth, trying to think of a tactful way to explain his situation. “I came to Denerim to attend to some business, but when I arrived this evening, I was unable to find a room to stay in. Another innkeeper suggested that I try here. He felt that Le Cygne D’Or might have the last free rooms in the city.”

Ellana pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That does make sense. I can’t imagine many devout pilgrims would choose to stay in a brothel, especially when they’re here to ask for the Divine’s blessing.”

Cullen nodded again, secretly wincing at the truth of her words. The faithful part of him was troubled by the idea of patronizing a brothel, just as other pilgrims appeared to be. By the same token, he recognized that he couldn’t just spend the night outside, especially as he was scheduled to meet with the Divine in the morning.

“Just so.” He replied to her reasoning. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a place to stay for the night. I am not here to, ahh… engage in any activities beyond sleep.” He trailed off. Maker, he felt awkward. “And I will pay the full price.”

“Oh.” Ellana chewed her lip, thinking his request through. “That seems reasonable. Expensive, but reasonable.”

“Don’t I know it.” He stated dryly.

“I’m guessing you’d like a bath and a meal, though? You… ah… still have some Ferelden on you.” She grinned, nodding to his mud-stained pants and boots.

He looked down, noting how the mud was spattered all the way up to his thigh.

“ _Yes.”_ He replied enthusiastically to her question. “Both would be appreciated.”

Ellana ducked her head in acquiescence. “As you wish, messere.”

Cullen shifted his stance, uncomfortable with her formality.

“Ellana, you can just call me Cullen. This is your room and you don’t need to defer to me, regardless of whatever the ridiculous procedure is here. If I can just get a bath and some food, I’ll stay out of your way.”

At his words, she studied him as if she was judging his sincerity. She must have made up her mind in his favor, because she shot him a relieved smile.

“Thank you, Cullen. And you’re no imposition. If you want to wait right there, I’ll get the bath ready.”

He noted that her tone, and indeed, her accent, had instantly shifted to something more natural, although he couldn’t put a finger on where he had heard the accent before.

Mulling it over in his head, he watched as she moved about the room, preparing the bath and retrieving a change of clothes from one of the dressers. When she was done, she set the spare clothing on a chair beside the tub and beckoned him over.

“There you are, Cullen.” She said, patting the pile. “If you want to leave your wet clothes beside the screen, I can have them laundered for you so they’re ready for tomorrow morning. ” With that, she stepped away towards the bed. “If you need anything, just call. I’ll order up some dinner for you while you bathe.”

Gratefully, he moved behind the screen and quickly set to work unbuckling his armor, buckle by tedious buckle. When he was fully divested of every piece, he tugged off his sodden clothes and placed them by the screen before climbing into the bath. As he sank down into the water, he realized that the tub had likely been used for all sorts of racy trysts, but he found himself not giving a damn. At this point, he was simply grateful to be warm after riding for so long in the chilly rain.

After soaking briefly, he picked up a creamy bar of soap from the side of the tub and began vigorously scrubbing the day’s sweat and dirt off his skin. As he did, he reflected on the awkwardness of the situation.

 _Varric would absolutely eat this story up,_ Cullen thought to himself, his lips settling in a hard line at the thought. _Good thing he’ll never bloody well hear it._

Five minutes later, Cullen finished up his bath and dressed himself with the clothing she had provided; a freshly laundered white shirt and loose pants of a soft, fine material. It felt good to be clean and warm for the first time all day.

With his bath done, he moved around the screen to see Ellana on her bed with a large book open in front of her and two other thick books to her side. She looked completely relaxed now, her blonde hair loosely pulled over one shoulder as she read.

She had also changed from her delicate dress to a teal-coloured silk nightgown that did little to cover her slender curves. Indeed, from his spot by the privacy screen, he could easily make of the smooth swell of her breasts from the gap in the side of the nightgown. Thankfully, she wore a pair of matching shorts underneath, but they only served to emphasize her long legs as she stretched out on the bed. The sight stirred something in him, and Cullen tried not to gawk openly.

“You changed.” He stated, keeping emotion from his voice as he toweled off his hair.

“Oh. Yes.” She replied, standing politely as she noticed him. “The servants will be coming shortly with the food, and if they see that we’re both fully dressed, it would look odd, this being a brothel and all.” She twisted her lips in a small frown. “Also, you can bet Madame Simard would hear of it.”

When she saw Cullen’s blank look, she explained.

“She is the owner - the lady you met downstairs. Given that you’re my first client, I’d rather not give her a reason to doubt my competence.” She paused. “Are you okay with it?”

Cullen almost laughed at the thought.

“I’m okay with your nightgown.” He said, his tone kind. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Ah. Thank you. I would prefer to wear this instead of that dress.” She declared, inclining her head back at the dress that now lay haphazardly across the back of a chair.

“It isn't comfortable?” Cullen didn’t know anything about fashion, but her dress had certainly seemed less restrictive than the other gowns the courtesans had been wearing. It was also rather flattering, he thought.

Ellana exhaled through her nose. “Madame Simard wants me to play the role of an exotic elven courtesan, hence the leafy jewelry and nature-themed dresses. It’s … troubling for me to be reinforcing stereotypes about elves. Even the more neutral ones.”

Cullen frowned, not really knowing that to say.

 “From a business perspective, I understand it.” Ellana continued, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m just glad there aren’t any other elves here to see me in it, although, that leads to other issues. Sometimes it’s an odd thing to be the only elf around. I’m not used to it.”

“I imagine that must be lonely.” He replied.

 “It’s okay. There is a dwarven girl here as well. She feels similarly. Plus, she gets a lot of comments about her stature. She told me that she keeps track of the number of times clients have told her that she is ‘the perfect blow job height’.” Cullen coughed and Ellana’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Apparently, she’s up to 27.”

Cullen snorted, unimpressed but not surprised. “She could always reply that she is also the perfect head-butting height, too. Might curb a few asinine comments.”

Ellana’s eyes widened appreciatively. “Oh, I would pay to see how that went over with a client.” She breathed.

“Actually… so would I.” He remarked wryly, before his attention wandered back to the books. “Are you reading anything good?”

Ellana shrugged. “Some of the books are better than others.” When he leaned in to get a closer look, she patted the bed beside her. “Here. I’ll show you.”

Cullen set the towel on the back of a nearby chair and padded back over to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of the mattress.

“This one” she pointed to the open one, “Is all about etiquette. Mistress Simard wishes for us to study it, as we never know what caliber of clients we’ll have to entertain. As she is so fond of telling us, Le Cygne D’Or has a standard to maintain. She can’t have courtesans eating with the wrong utensils or calling a bann “Your Majesty”.” She paused. “Or falling on their face in front of a client.”

Cullen bit back a chuckle at her guilty expression.

Ellana flipped the book closed and hefted it out of the way before pulling a smaller, cloth-bound book in front of her. As she shifted the books, he noticed she wore a thin golden bracelet with small green gemstones that tinkled when she moved.

 _Pretty_ , he thought distractedly.

  
“This one was from my mother.” She said, touching the smallest book fondly. “It’s a history of elven culture in Orlais. It includes essays on topics such as the Halamshiral uprising and the role of Chevaliers in elven oppression.” She looked up at him, her lips set in a thin line. “It’s important to me, but not exactly lighthearted reading.”

He nodded and she twisted herself around to drag the last book, a heavy tome, into her lap. Cullen could see a stylized heart on the cover, pressed deep into the leather cover.

“This is called ‘the Art of Love’.” She grinned brightly. “It’s sort of an instruction manual for sex, it’s unrepentantly _filthy_. It’s not exactly something the Divine would have on her bookshelf.”

Cullen bit back a smile. _Oh, if you only knew._

Ellana flipped open the cover, pages crinkling as she turned to the first section.

“The first part of the book focuses on milder things. Touches, kisses… That sort of thing. Apparently,” She said, clearly enthralled, “There are at least 31 kinds of kisses.”

Cullen shifted closer to her on the bed, strangely fascinated. Clearly, this was an aspect of his life that Templar training had skipped, because he hadn’t even been aware there _were_ types of kisses, except for tongue and no tongue, chaste or passionate. Seeing his interest, Ellana patted the pillows beside her, encouraging him to sit closer to her. Without hesitating, he shuffled up the bed to sit beside her, his back now against the headboard. As he settled down, she leaned over to show him the contents of the book.

“Once you get past the kissing, you come to the pages on positions.” She explained, tilting the open book towards him. To demonstrate, she flipped randomly to a page in the center of the book and Cullen felt himself flush from head to toe at the image on the page. It depicted two people entwined in a naked tangle of limbs, doing … something. It was hard to tell.

Cullen and Ellana tilted their heads simultaneously as they tried to decipher the drawing.

“Do you think she can breathe?” He asked after a moment, now more curious than flustered.

“I don’t know.” Ellana asked, her eyes still studying the image of the lovers. “Whatever the answer, it doesn’t look like he can either.”

Cullen grunted in agreement. He considered himself a passably knowledgeable man when it came to sex, but that… it just didn’t look comfortable. Ellana pondered the image for another moment more, then glanced back up.

“At the back there is a whole section on elves. A lot of the text focuses on their ears.”

“Their ears?” Cullen repeated dumbly, looking down to the book as she flipped to the back.

“Oh, yes. You have heard that they are erogenous areas on elves?

  
Cullen’s blush returned.

“Ah… other soldiers may have mentioned it.” _Mentioned_ was perhaps too mild of a word. _Described in ridiculously explicit detail_ was closer to the truth.

Ellana nodded, flipping a page. “With some elves, if you run your tongue over the edge of her ear, she will be purring in your lap like a kitten. It varies on the elf, though.”

Cullen glanced at her then, feeling a tug deep in his gut at the idea. He did his best to ignore the feeling as it came with a healthy dose of guilt, but he found it difficult to do, given her proximity and the way her bare legs stretched out parallel to his own. He could also smell the scent of her hair, something light and pleasant. Apple blossoms, he realized, recognizing the smell.

As he inwardly warred with his guilty feelings, she flipped the heavy book closed and set it to the side with no trace of a blush.

“You find it very interesting.” He remarked, surprised at her unapologetically fascinated attitude towards sex. His chantry background hadn’t exposed him to a lot of women like her.

“I do.” She replied emphatically. “I suppose I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I didn’t. Not that I’m terribly adept just yet.”

A sudden knock on the door halted any further questions he might have had.

“The food.” Ellana explained happily before gracefully climbing off the bed to answer the door. As she crossed the room, Cullen found himself automatically admiring her bare legs as she padded softly across the carpet. She really was very pretty, in a slender and somewhat foreign way. As he watched, he again felt the guilt creep back in and he looked away as if to study the windows. What would Cassandra think of him now?

At the door, he heard Ellana exchange some polite murmured words with the servant before she returned to the bed, tray in hand.

“Here is the key to the locker where your weapons are kept.” She said, setting it down on the dresser beside the bed. “And here…” She set the tray down on the bed. “… is the food. I’ve already eaten, so this is all for you.”

Cullen looked down to the contents of the tray. The bowl contained a generous amount of a stew-like concoction with meat and vegetables in a thick, savory sauce. Whatever it was smelled delicious, and the spice in it made his nose tingle.

“It’s a spiced lamb curry with flat bread. Dessert is…” She hummed, looking under the lid. “Berries soaked in Carnal liqueur, topped with cream.”

“Carnal?” Cullen repeated, admiring the dish.

“It’s Orlesian liqueur, said to, ah... amplify enhance your senses.” Seeing his startled expression, she held up her hand in a calming gesture. “Don’t worry. That claim falls firmly in the realm of ‘complete and utter bullshit’. It does taste wonderful, though.” When he glanced at the food longingly, she made an encouraging gesture with her hands.

“Go ahead. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep reading.”

At her prompting, he took a tentative bite of the curry and found it to be quite delicious. In truth, he couldn’t recall eating anything as satisfactory in years, and he eagerly dug in.

As he ate, Ellana sat beside him on the bed, comfortably flipping through ‘The Art of Love’, humming softly to herself as she read. At one point during his meal, she silently turned the book towards him to show him an especially graphic image of two women pleasuring each other with toys. Cullen nearly choked and Ellana let out a peal of laughter at his wide-eyed response before she returned to her reading, letting him get back to his food.

About ten minutes later, when he finished off the last boozy spoonful of dessert, Ellana set the book down on the dresser beside her.

“How are you feeling? Tired?” She asked.

At her words, he realized how weary he actually was. The bath and the meal had done wonders for his mood, but the days of riding were catching up with him quickly.

“I am, actually. It has been a long day.” Cullen leaned over and placed the tray on the dresser beside his key. “If you have some extra blankets, I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

She frowned.

“Cullen. The bed is large enough to sleep an entire family. As charming as your misplaced chivalry is, we don’t need to play this game. You take one half and I’ll take the other. I can even build a little pillow wall, if you’re troubled.” She pantomimed building a wall, grinning the whole time.

Cullen bit back a matching smile, thinking how childish it would look if a wall of fluffy pillows separated them as they slept.

“Alright. As long as I can trust my virtue around you, we’ll give it a try.”

“You’re safe with me.” She saluted, and Cullen found himself liking the informal version of Ellana very much.

Opting to keep his shirt on, he climbed under the covers and almost sighed in happiness. The sheets were incredibly soft and clean, smelling faintly of fresh laundry soap. It was exactly the sort of thing he had longingly pictured as his horse had slogged down the muddy highway that afternoon.

He shifted onto his stomach, pleased to be full, dry, clean, and content. If he was being honest with himself, a large part of his contentment was also due to the fact that he was about to share a bed with a rather pretty blonde elf whose current choice of clothing revealed more of her than it concealed.

The elf in question stood beside the bed, reaching out to snuff out the candles on her dresser. When she met his eye, she smiled mischievously at him.

“What?” He asked, feeling self-conscious.

“Nice curls.” She jerked her chin up, playfully gesturing to his drying hair. His recent bath had indeed caused his hair to go very curly in a short amount of time.

Wordlessly, Cullen grabbed ahold of one of his pillows and flung it at her, grinning when it made contact with a soft whumping noise with her head. The pillow fluffed up her hair and Ellana lifted her chin indignantly.

“You seem to have forgotten where pillows go.” She grinned, intentionally leaving her hair mussed as she tossed it back towards him. With a wink, she snuffed out the last candle and followed him under the covers, making the mattress shift under her slight weight.

“Sleep well, Cullen.” He heard her mumble gently in the darkness. He still couldn’t decipher her accent, but he liked the way his name sounded on her tongue.

“Goodnight.” He replied kindly, acutely aware of her comfortable presence only a few feet from him. He lay in bed then, listening to the sound of a cricket chirping through her window. The rain had tapered off some time over the evening and the cricket’s song was accompanied by a slow dripping noise as water trickled off the eaves of the roof. After a few minutes of listening to the noises outside, he heard her quiet breathing deepen and he realized she had fallen asleep.

 _That was quick_ , he marveled.

Not ten minutes later, Cullen was himself asleep, lulled into the Fade by pure exhaustion and the sound of her soft breath.

 

* * *

 

Cullen awoke slowly the next morning, shielding his eyes from the soft, early morning sunlight that poured into the room through the windows. To his surprise, he had slept well, without waking.

 _Wonders never cease,_ Cullen thought as he glanced to his side. To his left, he noticed that Ellana was still asleep. She was curled up on the bed facing him, her pointed ear peeking through her tousled hair, her pale eyelashes fanned over her cheeks as she slept on peacefully.

Well. Mostly peacefully, Cullen noted with some amusement. To his quiet delight, she was gently snoring.

Amused at the sight of a snoring courtesan, he rolled onto his stomach and began to categorize his aches. He was still a little sore from riding the previous day, but otherwise, he felt good. No headache, no fatigue. In truth, it had been awhile since he had woken up feeling so well. For that matter, it had been awhile since he had woken up beside a woman, albeit a snoring one.

As he lay there, he began to dwell on the fact that he’d be leaving in a couple hours. If he were honest, the idea of finding another place to stay caused him to feel a pang of … something.

 “Good morning, Cullen." He heard Ellana mumble. "Did you sleep well?” 

He glanced over and smiled at the picture she made, her blonde hair disheveled on one side and her eyes squinted with sleepiness. She was not exactly the picture of feminine elegance, but she was charming to his eyes all the same.

“I slept very well.” He paused, feeling wicked. “Did you know that you snore ever so lightly?” He said, ribbing her gently.

“You must have been mistaken.” She replied good-naturedly, rolling on her back. “If I was snoring, there is no way you’d ever have known, because you sleep like a stone. I don’t think you moved once.”

“You have a nice bed.” He explained, as if that were the only reason.

  
“Glad you think so.” She commented, pushing herself up. “You can stay in it while I order breakfast.”

Breakfast, it turned out, was comprised of dark coffee, flaky pastries with chopped nuts, and sliced fruit. The tray was delivered alongside his freshly laundered clothes, which were pressed and folded. When Cullen lifted the fur to his nose, he noted with satisfaction that even it smelled good. Le Cygne D’Or might not be his first choice to stay, but there was no denying that everything they did, they did well.

Including breakfast, he noted, enjoying the sweet little pastries more than he should. He and Ellana had opted to eat breakfast in bed, and they had both succeeded in littering the sheets with flaky crumbs.

“I know this is none of my business,” He stated as he finished another pastry, “but… are you… do you have another client tonight?”

“Tonight?” She asked, seemingly unperturbed by the question. “No, not tonight. Next week, yes, I’ve been requested, but I haven’t any assignations until then.”

The news that she had would soon have another client unsettled him. His happiness instantly dampened and he felt a heavy feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew he was being ridiculous, but…

“Could I stay another night?” He asked impulsively, before he really knew what he was saying. “I enjoy your company and odds are I won’t find another room, and if it continues to rain like it has, there’s no point buying a tent.” He realized he was rambling, so he cut himself off and waited.

She watched him shrewdly, chewing a piece of apple. After a moment, she swallowed and smiled brightly.

“I’d like that, Cullen. After all, I haven’t shown you the most scandalous drawings in ‘The Art of Love’. She took another bite of apple, her eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Maker help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Ellana reflects on Cullen while he has a candid conversation with the Divine about prostitutes. 
> 
> PS: I recently discovered my twin has an Ao3 account and she publishes some sharply clever Solas/Lavellan fics that blow my work out of the water. I recommend "I Think Your Horse Just Died" especially.


	3. Blunt Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana reminisces about her night with Cullen. Meanwhile, Cullen has an awkward conversation with the Most Holy.

The sheets on her bed needed changing, Ellana realized as she dressed herself. Even from across the room, she could see that the once-pristine white sheets were now covered in tiny flakes of buttery pastry, as well as the occasional chopped pecan; traces of her breakfast with Cullen.

The man in question had left about thirty minutes prior; off to attend to his business, although Ellana had no idea what that business might be. She hadn’t pressed him for details and he hadn’t offered more information, so she had to be content with guessing. Her initial reaction was that he was some high-ranking general in the Ferelden army, but he had kept his cards close to his chest, and Ellana had done her best not to pry. Clients didn't like that, or so she had heard.

Now fully dressed, Ellana moved to the side of her ferociously ugly Orlesian bed and began stripping the sheets off, gathering them in her arms once they were free. As she bundled them close to her chest, she caught the faint scent of Cullen. True, it was mainly the brothel’s expensive soap she smelled, but there was also the barest hint of _him_.

Distractedly, she sat on the now-bare mattress, sheets firmly bundled in her arms.

Cullen.

The man had definitely been a pleasant surprise. She had expected her first client to be an aloof nobleman’s son or a middle-aged landowner with grabby hands - someone who viewed bedding an elf as an entertaining novelty. To her joy, Cullen had been nothing like that.

Instead, he was an odd blend of quiet intensity and respectfulness. The combination had caught her off-guard and she found herself deeply relieved. It didn't hurt that the man was astoundingly attractive. Even when soaking wet and spattered with mud, he had been the most striking man to come into the brothel since she had arrived. For that reason alone, Ellana’s smile had been absolutely genuine when Cullen had chosen her over Sabine.

_Ughh. Sabine._

Ellana hugged the sheets to her chest tightly. She had not even been at the brothel for a week and she already knew the black-haired Orlesian woman, the brothel’s top courtesan, was treacherous. An ambitious woman, Sabine commanded the highest price, had the finest quarters, and had quite the list of distinguished clientelle.

Ambition was a fine thing in most professions, but in a brothel, it meant success came at the expense of the other courtesans. From what Ellana had heard, Sabine had intimidated at least three other courtesans into leaving in order to get where she was.

That wasn't going to happen to her.

Sniffing determinedly, Ellana stood and made her way to her door where she toed on a pair of satiny slippers. Her plan was to bring her sheets downstairs to the servants quickly, as courtesans were not supposed to do any work at the brothel. It would ruin Le Cygne D’Or’s mystique if a client were to see a courtesan scrubbing floors or making beds, but Ellana wanted to save the servants some time. She knew from past experience how hard they worked.

She nudged the door open with her foot and let her mind wander back to thoughts of Cullen as she padded down the carpeted hallway, feeling joy thrum in her chest at the prospect of staying a second night with him.

Assuming he came back.

It was entirely possibly he was just saying that to be kind to her, but Ellana let herself hope otherwise. He had, after all, given her a soft, affectionate smile when she had adjusted the fur around his shoulders that morning. If only... well. She had been a little disappointed that he hadn’t wanted any… additional services, but it also added something to his chivalrous charm.

Ellana turned the corner and headed towards the servants’ staircase. Thankfully, the brothel tended to be quiet this time of the day, as clients had, for the most part, long since departed with happy smiles on their lips and emptier wallets in their pockets.

Would that it have remained quiet this morning.

As Ellana rounded the corner, she nearly walked into Sabine. The courtesan's black hair had already been pinned up perfectly and her stunning eyes were lined with unsmudged kohl. Those same eyes were apparently the subject of quite a few tavern songs and earnest, yet clumsy, sonnets from clients. Sabine's beautifully dangerous eyes glanced down to Ellana and she felt herself take a step back.

“Ah, Ellana.” Sabine cooed in Orlesian, eyeing Ellana up and down. “How did your assignation go with that soldier from last night?” Her tone was coldy insincere, and Ellana was instantly on guard.

“It’s going well, thank you.” She replied in the same tongue, keeping her tone polite despite her misgivings. “He has asked to come back tonight.”

“Mmm. It’s so polite of him to pretend like he wants more.” Sabine replied, tapping her flawless lips in an absurdly fake show of thoughtfulness. “I do recall that he was soaking wet when he came in last night. Maybe the rain temporarily blinded him and he didn’t see that he had chosen a rabbit.”

Ellana’s expression changed from polite attentiveness to weary annoyance.

Ah. This game. At least it was one she knew well.

“That was a bit heavy-handed, Sabine.” Ellana replied in a dry tone. “Maybe next time you could make jokes about our matching fur, or warn us that we should be careful, least we reproduce exceedingly quickly. Why go straight for the term “rabbit” when you can use colorful allusions instead?”

Sabine’s cool expression became flinty. “I’m sure you know all about that. Speaking of which, it’s fitting that you’re carrying dirty sheets to the other servants.”

“They give me carrots as a reward.” Ellana grinned in response.

Without waiting to see Sabine’s expression, Ellana stepped around her and headed towards the servants’ staircase, and while the small elven woman's lips smiled with amusement, her eyes were tired.

* * *

 

Cullen leaned on the stone railing of the Divine’s balcony, feeling the warm summer wind ruffle the fur around his shoulders. It was a relief to escape the Divine’s overly grandiose quarters in the palace, which had become stuffy as the day wore on. Judging by Cassandra’s presence beside him, she was just as eager for the break.

Overall, he was satisfied with the results of their meeting so far. He and Cass had always worked well together; it had been almost a pleasure to hammer out details of the Inquisition’s new role within the Chantry. So far, they had unanimously agreed on how financial resources should be distributed and what the Inquisition’s peacekeeping priorities would be. Cullen guessed the Inquisitor would be pleased. While Inquisitor Trevelyan had originally been slated to participate in the talks, he had been forced to remain at Skyhold as he recovered from a mundane but virulent bout of the flu.

As Cullen looked out across the palace's courtyard, he found his mind wandering back to his night with Ellana. Apart from the wretched business of choosing a woman like a side of meat, he had genuinely enjoyed last night. The prospect of spending a night beside Ellana again made him feel... comfortable. Her plainspoken, friendly attitude and willingness to recognize how ridiculous the situation was put him instantly at ease. She was the type of person that he could see himself getting along with on a personal level. Inwardly, he acknowledged that her flimsy night gown had been particularly pleasant too, revealing far too much and not enough at the same time. He hadn't let her know, but Cullen had gone to bed absolutely aroused.

Cullen sucked in a deep breath and focused back on the present. He glanced over to Cassandra, who had been intently watching a stablehand struggle with a large bag of oats in the courtyard below.

“Is it what you had hoped?” He asked, watching Cassandra carefully. Even now, after all this time, he still found her difficult to read.

“Being Divine? In many ways, no. I ... struggle with the idea that so many look to me for guidance. In other ways, however, it is very much what I had hoped. It is a relief to be able to take action on some of the more blatant injustices we see.” She replied, her expression thoughtful. “For all that, I do sometimes miss the Inquisition. I find there are more expectations placed on me as an individual, and far less camaraderie as a result.”

She sniffed, and Cullen waited, knowing there was more.

“Do not tell him, but I even occasionally miss Varric’s stories, repetitive and implausible as they might be. Now that I am the Divine, I cannot really be seen reading his work. Someone would find a way to turn that into a scandal.”

“Maybe you can just get him to put a new cover on any books he sends to you?" He suggested. "Something bland so no one will ever read it. 'Growing Your Own Spindleweed' or the like.”

Cassandra grunted. “I think he would take too much pleasure from that request. The Divine requesting special copies of his... racier work?" She flushed. "I do not know if I could handle his smugness.”

"Fair point." Cullen conceded, and turned back to watching the busy courtyard below. "I'm not sure what to suggest."

Cassandra shrugged. “The loss of camaraderie is to be expected, I think. Many of us from the Inquisition are all too aware how lonely it is at the top.” As she spoke, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Before he had a chance to speak, she reached over and pulled a strand of long, blonde hair off of his fur-covered pauldrons.

Ellana’s, he realized. She must have shed it on him when she had hugged him goodbye that morning.

Cassandra gave him a thoughtful look.

“Perhaps life is not so lonely for all of us.” She replied, studying him closely as she let the strand of hair blow away with the breeze. “I didn’t know that you were close with anyone in Denerim these days.”

Cullen shifted on his forearms, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m not. Not really, anyway.” He responded, unwilling to lie to the Divine. From the corner of his eye he could see her fine eyebrow arch.

"It’s… complicated.” He muttered, hoping she would see his discomfort and change the topic.

“Enlighten me.” She requested plainly, and Cullen blinked, surprised at her insistence. Seeing his expression, Cassandra shrugged, almost sheepishly. “I get so little time to indulge in these sorts of conversations. Humor me.”

He sighed and ran an ungloved hand through his hair.

“She’s an elven woman I met. Last night.” He stopped, realizing how scandalous that sounded, but he couldn’t continue. The truth was worse.

“Last night?” Cassandra’s lips twisted into a small smile. “You make it sound like something unseemly.”

When Cullen hesitated and his eyes searched elsewhere, Cassandra’s expression fell flat.

“It’s not what it sounds like, is it?”

“Cass…” He said, turning to face the balcony doors, his voice agitated. “It really isn’t what you think.”

“That is a relief. Because spending one night with a woman you do not know? It sounds like you visited the Pearl.”

Cullen was silent again as he struggled to think of answer, and Cassandra groaned.

“Surely not, Cullen.” She exclaimed, distaste heavy in her voice.

“Not... not the Pearl, no.” He said, wincing in preparation for her inevitable scorn.

Cassandra’s nostrils flared. “What happened to ‘Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter’?”

“Cass, this has nothing to do with faith and everything to do with practicality.” He replied gruffly. “When I arrived last night, all the inns were full with visitors who came to see the Divine. The only place that had any rooms available was a brothel. But I simply _slept_ there - nothing unsavory. You know me well enough to know that I wouldn't choose that.”

She was silent a moment, her expression slightly mollified. “Why didn’t Josie take care of accommodations before you came?”

“She did, back when the Inquisitor was slated to come to these meetings instead. After he fell ill, and the plans changed, Josie was a bit too distracted to amend them.” He paused. He was quite certain that Cassandra knew the diplomat and the Inquisitor were romantically involved, so he didn’t explain further.

Cassandra leaned back against the railing, her arms crossed on her chest, her expression distant.

“Cass. You trusted my judgment in all other things, even back at the Gallows when you had little reason to. Trust me now. I am just sleeping there.”

Cassandra sighed deeply.

“I do trust you, Cullen. Forgive my doubt. I just assumed you had resorted to... something that is beneath you. On a related note, and I hope you will forgive me for overstepping. You've earned the right to happiness, as well as a woman deserving of you. I hope you find her some day.”

"I hope so too." He replied, his mind obviously elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Cullen and Ellana spend a second night together and he helps her "research" her porny instruction manual.


	4. Dalish Lullabies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen self-consciously returns to the brothel for a second night.

It was well after dinnertime when Cullen arrived back at the brothel with the Divine’s disapproval still heavy on his mind. In order to be less conspicuous, he had guided his horse along a circuitous route back through Denerim’s warren-like streets. He was no diplomat, but he knew how it would look if the Commander of the _Inquisition_ – a religious organization – was seen spending multiple nights with a prostitute.

It still galled him to be staying in a brothel – an _Orlesian_ -styled one, no less - but the feeling faded slightly when he found himself in Le Cygne D’Or’s lounge watching Ellana walk towards him with barely-contained excitement on her face. She had changed into another flowing, elven-inspired dress, complete with small white flowers in her elegantly braided hair. She looked _stunning_.

She stopped in front of him with a bright, sincere smile as he distractedly handed his weapons across the front desk.

“I’m glad you came back.” Ellana admitted in her pleasantly accented voice.

“I’m glad to be here.” He replied, then frowned slightly. “Well. More ‘with you’ than ‘here’, really.”

With his weapons safely stowed in the office, he politely offered her an arm, eager to steer her out of the lounge. It was too public here, too easy to be seen. Despite the relatively early hour, the couches were already occupied by a handful of well-heeled men sipping on expensive wines and brandies.

“The flowers in your hair are a nice touch.” He commented, lowering his head to keep their conversation private.

Ellana laughed quietly as they climbed the main staircase together.

“They are until you realize that they’re highly impractical for a courtesan. One solid tupping and I’m sure there would squashed flowers all over the bed.”

The thought of a disheveled Ellana lying on her bed surround by tiny, crumpled petals sprang to Cullen’s mind, and he felt a strong pang of _want_.

“There are worse ways to go, if you’re a flower.” He muttered distractedly.

As Cullen mulled that thought over, he noticed the black-haired courtesan from the previous night watching him coolly as he climbed the stairs. Not knowing how else to respond, he inclined his head respectfully. She gracefully curtsied in response, her eyes never leaving his. Cullen turned away, wondering fleetingly if he should ask Ellana about her, then instantly dismissed the thought. It didn’t seem right for him to be asking about another courtesan when he was with her, even if it was just for curiosity’s sake.

“Did your day go well?” Ellana asked as they crested the stairs and began to walk down the quiet corridor to her room.

“Well enough. I met with an old colleague for work. It went well, although, in truth she had some… ah… concerns about where I was staying. I think she is concerned for my soul.”

“Cullen,” Ellana replied calmly. “I think your colleague can rest at ease. Judging by your patience and kindness, your soul is probably the purest thing in this entire building.”

He sniffed as they arrived at Ellana’s door.

“I’ll have you know that I stole six mints from that little crystal dish at the front counter.”

Ellana chuckled and pushed open the door to her room.

“I didn’t know you were that hungry. Give me a minute to get changed and I’ll order us dinner again.”

Cullen mutely nodded and watched as Ellana disappeared behind her privacy screen to change. Distractedly, Cullen began to unbuckle his armor and set it along the wall. In truth, he was just as troubled as Cassandra about his current situation, but the fact that all the other inns were still booked made up his mind for him. That, and he was genuinely enjoying Ellana’s company.

As he set the last piece of his armor down, he saw Ellana step out from behind the screen. She had discarded her dress and was now wearing one of the extra men’s shirts she had stored in her dresser. The shirt was far too large for her; even with the sleeves rolled up, the hem of it almost brushed her knees. She had left her hair pinned up with flowers, though, and Cullen felt a tight knot in his chest when he looked at her. The nightgown from the previous evening was beautiful, yet polished. It was like she was wearing a uniform. Tonight, she looked as though she could have been wearing _his_ shirt, and the thought stirred a warm, possessive feeling in him.

“I know.” She said, misreading his expression. “It’s not as interesting as the nightgown, but I only have one of those so far. I need to buy more, and until then, this will have to do.”

Cullen shook his head, a crooked smile lighting up his face. “You look beautiful.”

Ellana jokingly curtsied, accidentally giving Cullen a decently clear view down the front of her shirt. He swallowed hard, and Ellana smiled.

“Now, let’s see what we can eat.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner, as it turned out, was braised beef in a rich sauce along with a side of vegetables and little potatoes in herbed butter. Accompanying the main course was a small silver dish of vanilla mousse and fine, red wine. As with all the food he had tried so far, it was incredible.

 _Chalk another point up for the Orlesians,_ he grumpily conceded as he sipped on his red wine.

After dinner, once night had fallen, Ellana invited him out on her balcony to talk. Although Cullen had initial reservations about her wearing nothing but a shirt outside, he quickly realized that his concerns were unfounded when they stepped outside. Her room faced the courtyard and stable instead of the street, and the balcony was surprisingly private.

Ellana leaned on the railing, resting her forearms on the cold stone. Cullen copied her stance, amused at how the scene paralleled his earlier conversation with Cassandra, with the notable exception being that his partner had changed from the Divine to a courtesan. As he dwelled on what to make of that, Ellana nudged his elbow playfully.

“Cullen, I never asked. What do you do? For a living, I mean. May I ask that?”

He hesitated briefly, then decided to speak as truthfully as he could. He wasn’t very good at lying.

“I train soldiers. ” He replied. “And I complete paperwork. If I’m very good, I occasionally get to go out on short missions like this.”

_There. That’s vague enough._

“What about you?” He asked, eager to redirect the conversation. “How did you come to work here?”

“Mmm.” Ellana replied, considering his question. “What do you know of the Val Royeaux alienage?”

Cullen thought for a moment. “In truth? Not much. What I do hear isn’t pleasant.”

Ellana nodded and stood up straight, putting her palms flat on the railing. “There are over ten thousand elves in the Val Royeaux alienage and it is _tiny_. The walls are so high that we don’t see the sun until noon.” She fiddled with her bracelet, turning it around her wrist distractedly. “It can be a miserable place, especially for former Dalish elves.”

Cullen listened seriously, comparing her assessment of the Val Royeaux alienage to the Kirkwall alienage, then paused.

“Wait. Are you Dalish?”

She tilted her head back and forth as if to say “yes and no”.

“I was born to a Dalish clan up in the Free Marches. When I was very young, human soldiers attacked the clan and scattered any survivors. My parents fled and eventually ended up in Val Royeaux. They were hoping to find peace and stability, but, no surprise, they didn’t find it there. To make a long story short, my father was killed by a chevalier’s sword and my mother ended up a servant in a noblewoman’s town house. I was never tattooed because my mother felt I might get along in Orlesian society better without the marks.”

“It doe _s_ make sense.” Cullen replied, his voice sympathetic.

“Unfortunately.” Ellana agreed. “My mother tried her hardest to ensure that I had a decent life. It helped that the noblewoman she worked for was a pleasant enough woman, so I was sheltered from a lot of the grief that other elves see.” Ellana tilted her wrist, showing her bracelet to him. “She even gave my mother this when my father was killed, since she knew green was his favorite colour. It’s all I have left to remind me of him.”

Ellana took a deep breath and glanced up at the night sky before looking back to him.

“That’s indirectly how I ended up here. Madame Simard, the proprietor, worked with my mother as a servant long ago. When Madame Simard came back to find more Orlesian girls for the brothel, she tracked me down and offered me the chance to leave. I took it.” She shrugged.

Cullen leaned back, his hands still gripping the stone railing. “Now that you’re here, would you ever leave? Not all places are like Val Royeaux. You could find another job. You don’t need to be a…you don’t need to work here if you don’t want to.”

Ellana chuckled. “You can call a spade a spade, Cullen.” She smiled. “I’m going to be a prostitute. A well-paid one, but still a prostitute.”

Cullen said nothing and Ellana moved across the balcony to sit down by the wall, her shirt barely covering her thighs. Following her lead, Cullen sat beside her, his back against the stone, his knees bent in front of him. He wasn’t sure how to gauge her mood, so he stayed silent, waiting.

“It’s not such a bad place. Elves are often forced to resort to worse in Val Royeaux. To answer your question, though, I won’t stay here forever – this is only a means to an end. I’ll make enough money to study somewhere, and then leave to find a university. I’ll do something that helps people. I won’t go back to Val Royeaux, though. Even if the alienage wasn’t there, the University of Orlais doesn’t accept elves. I’ll find someplace else. Somewhere with a good library.”

 _A good library…_ A thought connected in Cullen’s mind.

“Skyhold has two libraries.” He suggested without thinking, and then almost bit his tongue. Skyhold was the stronghold of the Inquisition, not a town that people visited by chance. By recommending it, he was almost waving a flag announcing his affiliation with it.

“Skyhold?” She peered at him, her expression curious. “The Inquisition fortress in the middle of the mountains? I wonder how elves are treated there.”

 _So much for being incognito_ , he thought wryly.

“From what I understand, they’re treated the same as anyone else.” He explained, trying to distance himself from it. “I’m told its people come from all over Thedas, so its population is fairly diverse.”

She fiddled with her bracelet, pondering his suggestion. “That’s a thought. Seems mighty cold, though. Plus, I thought they were wrapping up operations.”

Cullen shrugged, unwilling to comment further.

“My turn to ask questions.” She said after a moment’s pause, poking his shoulder. “What do you think of the brothel?”

Cullen snorted, then distractedly rubbed his wrist. “It’s truthfully not for me.”

“I picked up on that.”

“Combined with the fact that it’s very Orlesian, I am … rather uncomfortable here.”

Ellana’s brow furrowed. “And yet, here you are.”

He shrugged. “The food is excellent.”

Ellana leaned her head back against the wall and gave him a sly half-grin.

“…And I enjoy the company. More than I expected to.” He continued, his voice more sincere than he had intended.

Ellana leaned affectionately against his shoulder in response, and Cullen felt a deep unnamed ache spring up in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to put his arm around her, but it felt too forward – too much too quickly. Instead, he settled for brushing his fingers across the top of her hand. Even that felt a little bold, so he casually pulled back and rested his forearms across his knees.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Cullen leaned his head back against the stone wall, breathing in the warm night air. From here, he could smell the heavy, salty scent of the Amaranthine Ocean, so different from the pine-scented mountain air at Skyhold. The thought of Kirkwall's harbor came to mind, and he quickly began searching his thoughts for a distraction. He’d rather not think of Kirkwall tonight. Or ever.

“What have you been studying tonight?” He asked after a few moments, recalling that her books had been lying on the bed again when he came in.

“More of the ‘Art of Love’.” She mumbled contentedly at his side. “I’m still learning about kisses.”

“Still?” He asked, looking over to her in surprise.

“There is a lot to know.” She replied, peering at him with an arched eyebrow. “Many kisses have multiple steps, and are all listed by poetic names like “the Slow Death”, “Dance of the Mage and Templar” and “the Ferelden’s Oath”, so there is a lot to remember.”

Cullen grinned crookedly.

“What’s a ‘Ferelden’s Oath’?”

Ellana’s eyes sparkled.

“You really want to know?”

“I… Yes.” He replied, his curiosity piqued.

“I’ll show you.” Ellana shuffled to her knees in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, her eyes delighted. Cullen swallowed, his heart all of a sudden thumping hard in his chest. With her kneeling directly in front of him, he had a perfect view of her; everything from her lightly freckled nose to the smooth line of her collarbone as it disappeared down her large shirt.

As he admired her, she leaned in towards him and traced a confident swipe across his lips with her small, pink tongue. When she reached his scar, she pulled back, beaming.

“What?…” He unthinkingly licked his lips, tasting vanilla mousse on his tongue. “That was a ‘Ferelden’s Oath’? A… lick?” He asked, his mind reeling with abrupt and confused desire.

Ellana shrugged, obviously entertained.

“The book was written by an Orlesian. Whenever it refers to ‘Ferelden’ anything, it normally involves a great deal of tongue and some sort of allusions to dogs. I think there’s also a sex position named ‘the Obedient Mabari’ that involves the woman being on her hands and knees, along with a leather collar. I can try to find the picture.”

“I’ll take your word on it.” Cullen held up his hands in surrender, chuckling. “Maker. Orlesians honestly believe Fereldens are absolute barbarians.”

“Are you?” Ellana asked, an eyebrow cocked.

“Me personally?” He met her expression with a grin. “If the situation calls for it.”

_Maker. That was bold._

Spurred on by his brazen tone, Ellana smiled mischievously and tucked a strand of hair behind her elegantly tapered ear. “I don’t suppose you could help me research a couple of the other kisses? I have a lot to learn.”

Cullen briefly thought of Cassandra’s disapproving glare, but his resolve crumbled when Ellana’s pale, pink lips twisted into a sweet smile. Kisses were mild things, he reasoned.

“I’ll help.” He rumbled, pushing aside his nerves. He was fairly certain that Ellana’s innocent demeanor wasn’t an act, but if it was, she was playing him like a harp.

“Alright.” She bit her lip, thinking. “I just need to think of a suitable one. Something not too lewd.”

“What’s the mage and templar one like?”

She shook her head. “You probably don’t want to try that. It involves biting and licking. From both parties.” Cullen’s eyebrows shot up, but Ellana continued on without noticing. “What about… hmm.” She shuffled closer to him again.

“There’s one called ‘the Dalish Lullaby’. Here, sit still.”

She leaned against him, her slender form pressed up to his chest. He turned his head to meet her lips, but she briskly nudged his face away with her nose and moved her lips to his ear. A moment later, he thought he felt her breath sigh against his ear, although he was barely certain if it was her at all. As he tried to decide, she traced her warm lips down the rim of his ear softly. He shivered at her touch, his skin pebbling with goosebumps. As he let out a sigh, he felt the tip of her tongue catch his earlobe and she ever so slightly bit him, dragging her teeth lightly along his skin.

 _Void_. Whatever she was doing, it was working.

Cullen fought off a groan and the strong urge to slide his arms around her waist and push her down to the cold stone. Suddenly, giving into corruption and wickedness sounded like the best idea he’d had all day.

As he clung to his self-control, Ellana pulled away and sat back on her heels, her eyes watching him intently. “I think that’s it. Did it feel okay?”

He hesitated. “I think... I might have forgotten to breathe.” The clumsy words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think.

“Oh! Did you want to try another?” She asked, visibly pleased at his reaction. “There are lots to choose from.”

“Fade take me, I do.” He answered honestly. As good as they felt, they were still just kisses, Cullen rationalized. Innocent, brief kisses. The world wouldn’t end if he kissed a woman.

“We can try the ‘Slow Death’, but you’ll need to spread your legs to let me get closer. Or let me climb on your lap.”

He swallowed thickly. Innocent kisses indeed.

Cullen numbly followed her directions, spreading his legs so she could shuffle right up against him. He was almost unbearably hard now, and part of him strongly hoped she didn’t point it out as she leaned against him again.

“Do I need to do anything specific?” He asked quietly as her lips neared his.

“Whatever you like.” She replied, putting one hand on his maroon tunic above his heart. “My job is to follow the steps, but improvise as we go. I’d make for a poor lover if I had to keep checking the book as we went.”

Cullen nearly laughed at the idea, but then her lips were on his and his thoughts dissolved into nothing but an awareness of the small, soft elven woman between his thighs. All that mattered now was the sensation of her against his chest, the weight of her lower body pressed against his erection, the softness of her lips as they insistently parted his, and the feel of his own tongue meeting hers without hesitation. His arms encircled her waist and his hand slid behind her neck as he pushed himself thoroughly into her kiss. She reciprocated without pause, meeting him move for move, her pulse racing under his fingertips.

Too soon, she pulled back with an unfocused expression on her face. Judging by the way she was almost panting, she was just as aroused as he was.

“I… I forgot the steps.” She breathed, looking shaken.

He fought the urge to run his thumb over her bottom lip. “That’s okay. It still felt…”

_Amazing. Mind-blowing.  
_

“Nice.” He finished, then inwardly groaned.

Cullen exhaled slowly and took a mental step back to review his current situation. He was seated on the floor of a stone balcony in an Orlesian brothel with an elven prostitute nearly in his lap, her lips reddened from his enthusiastic kissing. This was a slippery slope, he realized soberly.

“We should… probably get some sleep now.” He murmured, his voice hushed. "It's getting rather late."

“I think… that’s a good idea.” She replied, her expression unreadable. Ellana gracefully climbed off of him and he stood, following her into her room.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Cullen found himself again in a questionable position. Maker, it was so easy to do here.

As he had tugged his shirt off in preparation for bed, he had watched as Ellana struggled to pull the small white flowers out of her hair. Smiling at her impatient noises, he had walked up behind her and carefully tugged one free. That led to his current position – seated topless on her bed with his back against the headboard, Ellana comfortably seated between his thighs, her back towards him.

Gently, he pulled the white flowers out, one by one, tugging them loose and setting them on the pillow beside him. Ellana, meanwhile, was humming slightly, enjoying his ministrations.

“This feels nice.” She sighed as he unpinned her hair and began to loosen her braids. “Speaking of feeling nice, Cullen…” She turned, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Did you want more?”

Cullen’s hand froze in her hair.

“More?” He asked, knowing exactly what she meant.

“More. As in, I’d be happy to provide you with all the services you’ve paid for.” She spoke plainly, but she didn’t quite meet his eyes.

He exhaled, low and long. “Ellana, I… can’t. I mean, I can…” He made a face. “but… I’m in Denerim for work. It wouldn’t look good for me to do anything.” He began distractedly unpinning another braid. “Not that I wouldn’t like to… be with you. If you wanted that too. I mean, it’s pretty clear why I’m here again.” He sighed, irritated at the way he had become a rambling mess. “I would never want to take advantage of this situation. If things were different…”

Ellana looked at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable again. Almost unreadable. He thought he saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes before she was smiling again.

“It’s okay, Cullen. I just want to make sure you’re satisfied.”

Cullen’s hands paused in the act of pulling out the last braid.

“More than you know, Ellana.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen had been asleep for only an hour when the nightmares found him. It didn’t matter that he slept in a luxurious bed with silk pillowcases, or that a beautiful woman dreamed mere inches from him. The nightmares found him anyway, twisting and distorting his pleasant dreams into oily, dark things. The demons followed him, slithering into his mind, hissing sickening promises into his ear, capitalizing on his inability to fully awaken.

He was vaguely aware that he had yelled – was yelling – when he felt small, gentle hands run through his sweaty hair. Vanilla-scented lips brushed against his ear next, whispering soft soothing elvish words, coaxing his heartbeat into a slower, steadier pace.

He slowly awakened to see Ellana watching him sympathetically in the dark, a mere arm’s length away, her hand still carding his hair. Without a word, he reached out and pulled her to his bare chest, tucking her head underneath his chin. She cuddled closer without hesitation and Cullen, still only half-awake, kissed her hair distractedly as he struggled to remind himself where he was.

Convinced that he was safe with Ellana pressed snugly against him, he smoothly fell back to in a calm sleep.

For the first time since he had arrived, he felt no guilt as he held her.


	5. Desire Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen mulls over his feelings and Ellana receives some advice from a more seasoned courtesan. Seeing an opportunity, Sabine makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. Life has been exhausting, so I've been falling face-first into bed each night instead of writing. I will have more time this week though, which is exciting for me. I have this story and and an Avvar one-shot to complete.

Ellana’s bedroom was bright in the mornings. Too damned bright, Cullen groused internally, keeping his eyes shut against the dazzling sunshine that streamed through the tall glass windows. He was accustomed to his much darker, and frankly, danker, sleeping quarters back at Skyhold. With the thought of home on his mind, he shifted restlessly on the mattress, jostling Ellana as she lay curled under his left arm. She made a quiet, sleepy noise of protest and snuggled closer to his chest. He immediately ceased his fidgeting and her indignant noise stopped, causing him to smile against her hair.

Her presence felt… good.

 Oh, it would reflect poorly on the Inquisition if he were discovered in an Orlesian brothel, entwined in an elven prostitute’s arms. News of the great Commander’s misstep would likely spread like wildfire if it were discovered – tittered amongst the Orlesian courts especially. The longer he spent with Ellana, however, the less he worried about the repercussions. Soldiers, banns, people of all ranks visited brothels for all manner of illicit trysts; four nights of playful flirting should hardly cause anyone to blink. Besides, he knew without asking that their current arrangement was, in fact, highly unusual in its chasteness.

Not that he wasn’t tempted by the unsaid promise of the situation.

Each time Ellana’s large shirt slipped off her shoulder; each time she padded across the room with her bare, shapely legs - the temptation was there. Last night had been especially difficult. Her eager kisses, given under the pretense of 'education', had ignited several long-forgotten emotions in him. Emotions he was desperate for more of, despite the uneasy feeling that this arrangement was a Bad Idea. He also had no idea how she felt about it all, although it did seem that their arrangement was starting to deviate from the typical client-courtesan dynamic into something …deeper.

But that thought was dangerous. After all, tavern bards sung songs about hapless men who fell for prostitutes. Fools, the lot of them, apparently.

As he ruminated about his situation, Ellana stirred gently in the bed beside him.

“Are you awake?” Her lips breathed the quiet words against his chest.

“Begrudingly.” He rumbled, and then winced at the gravelly sound of his voice.

“Shift over a little?” She wiggled a bit under his bicep. “As absolutely stunning as your arms are, they're heavy. I feel a little like I'm being squashed by a very pretty gurn.”

Cullen chuckled and rolled onto his back, freeing her. With his now arm gone, Ellana pushed herself up into a sitting position and smiled sleepily at him, her pale blonde hair tousled, her large shirt hanging off one shoulder. Wordlessly, he reached over to gently tug one of her tresses in a lazy show of affection, his brown eyes watching her warmly. He twisted the lock gently between his fingers before letting it go, surprising himself and Ellana with the gesture.

In response, she ducked her head slightly, a touch of shyness appearing on her face.

“I… I wish you didn’t have to leave today.”

Cullen blinked away his drowsiness, suddenly alert.

“I was thinking about that. I have to stay in Denerim for a couple more days, but the inns are still booked – I had someone ask around. I know it’s a bit presumptuous, but I was hoping… “ Cullen cleared his throat, trying to chase away the uncertain tone that had crept into his voice. “May I stay my last two nights with you?”

Ellana’s shy expression brightened, her sleepiness almost instantly gone.

“Oh! Of course!” She beamed and scooted closer to him, her eyes sparkling with joy. "If you want, we can continue looking through the book tonight. We can find something mild; I know there’s a section on dirty talk that’s really fascinating. Oh, Cullen... Orlesians have such flowery terms for the fiiiiilthiest things.” She bit her lip and cast her eyes upwards as she gleefully thought about the book. “It’s fantastic. Or, we could read about …”

“Elves.” Cullen stated, cutting off her excited rant, surprising himself for the second time that morning.

“Elves?” She repeated, her bright eyes now curious.

He nodded. “You mentioned that there was a chapter about elves. It… occurred to me that I know nothing about elven women.” Cullen propped himself up on his elbows, feeling the beginnings of a blush. “… As awkward at it is for me to admit that.”

Ellana tilted her head, her eyes mischievous.

“We’ll do elves, then.”

 

* * *

 

Several hours after Cullen had left, Ellana found herself seated on her own small couch, sipping brandy from a porcelain tea cup with the brothel’s only Rivaini courtesan.  'Vandal Aria', as she called herself, had taken the name of the small, desert rose when she began work at the brothel two years prior. According to her, the decision to adopt the name was due more to an appreciation of the flower’s ability to thrive in hard environments than for the flower’s appealing smell.“Those things are tough as shit.” Vandal had explained reverently to Ellana the first time they had spoken.

As Ellana watched the dark-haired woman down her fifth cup of brandy that morning, she conceded that that name was a good fit.

Seated beside her, Vandal moved to refill her teacup with brandy.

“I got in trouble for having sex with a client in the lounge a couple nights ago.” Vandal admitted candidly, her expression amused.

“I heard something about that!” Ellana chirped happily. “I didn’t know if sex in the lounge was standard practice, or a particularly daring exception to the rule. Apparently, ‘it eez not somezing we do ‘ere’” she said, playing up her Orlesian accent to mimic Madame Simard’s voice.

Vandal snorted. “It’s a brothel, not an Orlesian salon, whatever Madame Simard may think.” She leaned back on Ellana’s ornate couch, lounging gracefully. “If clients are shocked to see sex – subtle sex, mind you – in the lounge, maybe they should go elsewhere.” She brought her teacup up to her lips. “…Like to a fucking chantry.” She muttered before taking a sip.

“I don’t know if ‘subtle’ is the right word.” Ellana stated dryly. “Weren’t some of the other clients in the lounge watching? And taking bets on you?”

Vandal made an inelegant noise deep in her throat. “Only the smart ones. Plus, that client wasn't just any man - he was a younger relative of Gallagher Wulff, the old Arl of West Hills. He's wealthy, pleasant, and good-looking. I'd be an idiot if I didn't try to blow his brains out." She gave Ellana a smug smile. "Also, he is fucking _hung_." She announced with pleased sigh, eyes rolling for dramatic effect. Ellana laughed and tossed a cushion at Vandal, who caught it easily, the beads on her dress tinkling as she moved.

"Speaking of clients," Vandal remarked, looking to Ellana with curious eyes, “How is that handsome soldier of yours?”

“Cullen? Ah.” Ellana’s stomach pitched at the mention of his name, praying that Vandal wouldn't ask about his... endowments. She felt a strong, confusing urge to protect him, even from something as simple as racy gossip. “Well. He’s very kind. We get along incredibly well and I... appreciate his company very much.” Ellana felt her cheeks heating as she spoke. 'Appreciate' was an apt choice of words. Cullen had slept without a shirt last night, and oh, Creators, that had been a sight to see. He was certainly built more solidly than the elven men she had been with back in Val Royeux. Waking up to the feeling of his muscular arms around her had been a good way to start the day. The best way, really.

Ellana distractedly wetted her top lip, then remembered that Vandal was still listening. “I think he’s totally out of place here, though."

“You don’t say. Your pretty man has caused quite the stir.” Vandal set down her cup on the small table in front of her. “Your first client and he has already stayed here two nights in a row. I heard from one of the servants that Madame Simard is pleased. Sabine is… less so.”

Ellana frowned at the mention of the Orlesian courtesan’s name. “Why is that?”

Vandal cocked her head slightly, as if the answer was obvious. “She wants him. Sabine’s last client was a fantastically wealthy wool merchant who smelled like boiled socks. I’m fairly sure Sabine thinks she deserves your Cullen, what with him being exceedingly handsome and all.” Vandal winked. “Lucky girl, by the way." Ellana grinned crookedly in response, saying nothing. She wasn't about to admit that they hadn't done anything other than kiss. Regrettably.

Vandal took another swallow of brandy. "So. Has Sabine started trying to get under your skin yet?”

Ellana nodded. “Urggg. Yes. She’s tried. She likes to play the ‘rabbit’ card. It doesn’t work well, but she thinks it does.”

Vandal snorted, unimpressed. “Or course she does. What a beautiful, bloody nightmare she is.”

“Her goading is… manageable.” Ellana shifted on the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her skirts. “I lived in Val Royeux. ‘Rabbit’ is downright endearing compared to other terms they have.” She took another sip of the brandy, relishing the feeling as it burned all the way down her throat. “Does Sabine go after you too?”

“She tried to.” Vandal replied dryly. “I told her I’d use my daggers to cut off all her pretty hair and then strangle her with it if she tried any of her useless blackmailing tactics with me.” The Rivaini woman grinned fiercely, showing too many teeth. “She hasn’t tried any bullshit with me since then. She thinks I’m insane.”

Ellana looked at her curiously.

“For the record, I’m not. I wouldn’t actually cut off her hair. I may not like her, but she has some incredibly powerful clients that would object to her sudden and incredibly satisfying hair loss.”

“Fair point.” Ellana murmured into her teacup.

Vandal slung her arm over the top of her couch, radiating a sort of lazy, cat-like confidence.

“From what I hear, Madame Simard is tired of Sabine’s antics too. Sabine may be the top courtesan here, but she’s toxic, and that hurts business. …Also, she’s having sex with the Chevalier guard. That’s not exactly permitted behavior.”

Ellana’s nose wrinkled in the beginnings of a snarl. “Creators. She can _have_ him.” When Vandal’s dark eyebrow lifted in a question, Ellana lowered her teacup.

“He has grabbed my ass twice already. I know that dealing with leering is part being a prostitute, but … I don’t like him. At all.”

Vandal nodded sympathetically, her brown eyes intent on Ellana.

“Yes, you have to watch out for his pawing, although the truly dangerous one is Sabine. Just… watch yourself. You have something she wants.”

 

* * *

 

“Arrrrg… Cullen!”

Cullen glanced over from his spot on the plush bed to see Ellana frustratedly rummaging through the lower drawer of her dresser.

Evening had fallen, and, for a third night in a row, Cullen found himself back in Ellana’s room at the brothel. The day’s negotiations had gone well, but the stress of meeting with the Divine _and_ the King of Ferelden had taken its toll. As pleasant as the king had been – he had been downright entertaining, in fact - Cullen’s nerves had been rather frayed from stress until he had arrived back in Ellana’s room.

It was amazing how quickly her presence, as well as a bath and a fine glass of whiskey, had relieved him of that stress. Now, freshly bathed and changed, he sat comfortably against her headboard with Thedas’ smuttiest book in his lap, trying not to choke whenever he came across a particularly sinful drawing.

“I can’t find any more shirts.” Ellana lamented, looking up at him from the floor. “Or nightgowns. I forgot to put them in the laundry.” She placed her hands primly in her lap, her lips pressed together in a frustrated line.

Cullen looked over the book at her, his eyes mischievous.

“You could wear this.” Jokingly, he turned the book towards Ellana, holding it open to a page with a young elven woman who was wearing little more than a handful of strategically placed leaves. _Leaves,_ for Maker's sake. Somehow, the "outfit" managed to look absurd yet alluring at the same time.

Ellana’s expression flitted from frustrated to entertained. “Oh! Did you want me to try? I might be able to stick them on with honey. I may look like a damned fool, but I'd be delicious.”

_Shit. This damned book is a bad influence._

Cullen closed the thick book and exhaled a breath that was part laugh, part frustrated huff.

 “Ah… yes, but no. It would be safer if you didn’t.” Ignoring Ellana’s questioning look, he slid the thick book away across the bedclothes. “Do you want me to go get the food while you look for a change of clothes? I feel useless sitting here doing nothing.”

From her spot on the carpet, Ellana looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes, that would be wonderful. If you want, you can use the back staircase to get to the kitchens to avoid the lounge. Not many people use that staircase, so you should be safe.”

 

* * *

 

Five minutes later, Cullen found himself waiting in the hallway by the kitchen, listening to the sound of clinking glasses and mumbled laughter as the servants prepared their dinners. Thankfully, the kitchen was located down a short hallway off the main lounge, out of view of the majority of clients, so Cullen didn’t mind the wait. Not really, anyway. It was still bizarre to be in a brothel, but the scandal of it had worn off a little, no matter how Cassandra scowled at him each day.

While he loitered in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, a familiar-looking black-haired courtesan turned the corner. As she noticed him, her darkly lined eyes lit up. Without a pause, she changed course to come speak with him.

She curtseyed gracefully as she came near. “Good evening. You are Cullen, are you not?”

“I… yes.” He balked momentarily, struck by the blueness of her eyes, just as he had been the first night he arrived. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, my lady.” In the back of his mind, he distractedly noticed that her eye colour matched her dress – a royal blue Orlesian-style gown.

“Sabine, Messire. At your service.” She inclined her head, her striking eyes intent on him. “I understand you are with Ellana tonight?”

“Yes.” He replied politely, uncrossing his arms, but not offering more information. The less he advertised his arrangement, the better. Still, though… best to be courteous.

“Tell me, Cullen. How is Ellana faring tonight?”

Sabine took a flirtatious step closer towards him and Cullen noticed that she smelled good. Delicious, even, like honey or vanilla or something sweet.

“She is well, thank you.” He replied confidently, although he felt his composure falter slightly as Sabine turned. With the light from the kitchen, Cullen could see just how sheer the fabric of her dress was. His eyes flicked down and he realized that he could see straight through her snug-fitting bodice. Under the right lights, the fabric was almost see-through, revealing a flawless pair of breasts.

Momentarily distracted, he glanced to the kitchens in the hope that someone would come out and interrupt their conversation. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, like a cornered animal.

Sabine didn’t seem to notice.

“That is good to hear. Ellana works very hard.”

“Oh, does she?” Cullen asked, more out of an attempt to be polite than out of interest for what Sabine had to say.

“My, yes.” Sabine purred, moving closer to slide her fingers under his collar as if she was fixing it. Cullen blinked in surprise but allowed it. It would be rude to step away if she was genuinely helping him. “Ellana works quite hard. She has men coming to see her all the time. She is always busy.”

That caught his attention. Cullen felt a strong tug of …uncertainty? Jealousy? Ellana had said she was new to this, so either Sabine was incorrect, or Ellana had been putting on an act, complete with 'the Art of Love' as a prop. Cullen frowned, distracted by the implications of Sabine's words.

“I was under the impression that she was new here.”

“Ah, she is, but she is also currently the only elven woman here. The demand is high, you know. She is a lovely girl, so she has had quite a few men visit her in the past week since she arrived.”

“I… see.” Cullen replied, feeling his easy-going mood fizzle out. It was replaced by a darker, unhappier feeling that settled deep in his gut. Perhaps Sabine was lying, although he couldn’t guess her motives. Or maybe… maybe he was a gullible fool. Perhaps the comfortable banter and quiet looks that he and Ellana exchanged were all part of the package he was paying for. Courtesans were often adept actresses, specializing in making their clients feel loved.

Sabine’s heavy skirts rustled against his leg and Cullen distractedly glanced to her, watching as she tilted her head in a coy manner.

“I understand you’ve been here a couple nights.” She continued. “I know Ellana is charming, but if you ever feel the need for different company…perhaps to give Ellana a break…” Sabine looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I offer my services as well.”

To punctuate her offer, she moved her hands from his collar, dragging the tips of her fingers down his shirt, barely skimming the fabric. His feelings churned and he closed his eyes, uncomfortable about the situation. Laden with guilt, a small part of him also couldn't help but wish she would have added more pressure as she had dragged her fingers low across his stomach.

“I’m in room 201, should you need anything.” With a scorching look, Sabine turned and headed off down the hall towards the bedrooms, her perfume lingering.

Cullen silently watched her go. He stood in the hallway for a solid minute with a deeply pensive expression on his face before he decisively pushed off from the wall. Without hesitation, he headed down the same hallway, forgetting the food behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: NSFW! Oh, Cully. You're so done for.


	6. Choices (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an intense evening, Cullen realizes that he's in over his head.

Cullen strode down the second floor hallway of the brothel towards the bedrooms, his emotions churning uncomfortably in his gut. He couldn’t decide if the confusion he was experiencing was due to jealousy or hurt, nor was he certain if he had a right to feel either way.

If Sabine’s casual comments had been true, Cullen was simply another notch on Ellana’s bedpost. One of several notches added this week, actually. The possibility that he had been one of Ellana's several lovers _this week_ had unsettled him, but he had known right from the start that she was working as a prostitute. It was her business. More hurtful, perhaps, was the possibility that Ellana had been lying or putting on an act as if he was just another client. Which he was, he supposed with a frown. Somehow, he just hadn’t felt like it.

Cullen stopped outside Ellana’s bedroom door and hesitated before knocking. In truth, he felt like a monumental ass. How he supposed ask her to clarify Sabine's comments without coming across as a jealous idiot? Frustrated by the drama of the situation, he gave a short, irritated snort and knocked on the door, resigning himself to an awkward conversation. When a muffled female voice called for him to enter, he cautiously pushed the heavy door open.

Inside, Ellana was reaching up to light one of the wall sconces, her hand cupped around the flame as she moved from candle to candle. She had changed, he noted immediately. He had expected it, really. Every night, she had made a habit of changing almost immediately after he arrived, eager to free herself from her falsely “elfy” attire. What he _hadn’t_ expected was for her to be wearing his maroon mantle, – and nothing _but_ it, it appeared. She must have retrieved it after he had bathed, the logical part of him reasoned.

She glanced over to him and smiled in welcome, and then gestured to his empty hands before moving to light another candle. “Dinner isn’t ready yet?”

“Not… no. It isn’t.” He replied, still caught off-guard by the sight of her.

The mantle was huge on her, with the bottom hem falling to a point halfway down her thighs. The deep V neckline dipped low as well, highlighting the inner curves of her breasts and her flat stomach in a bold display of skin. The heavy fabric crossed low over her hips and thighs, covering enough to hide key areas, but little else. Cullen greatly appreciated the effect.

Across the room, Ellana moved to light another candle. “We can call up for it in a few minutes, then.” She replied. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind that I’m wearing your shirt. I really like this.”

If he hadn’t been so unnerved by his conversation with Sabine, he would have laughed. 

She wasn’t as classically beautiful as Sabine - she lacked the soft curves and the cultured elegance of the other woman - but there was a reason why Madame Simard had asked her to come work at Le Cygne D’Or, and it sure as hell wasn’t nepotism. Ellana’s physical beauty lay in her expressive eyes, her long legs, and her own natural grace. The sight of her, dressed as she was, caused Cullen to huff out a low, pleased breath from across the room.

The noise, which had come after several moments of stunned silence, caused her to turn.

“Is everything alright?” Ellana asked, looking at him expectantly.

He scrubbed his hand though his hair. He needed to get this off his chest. “Yes, It’s just... Ellana…” He wetted his top lip. “May I ask you a couple questions?”

She nodded, her eyebrows raised at his suddenly serious demeanor. He shifted, keenly aware of her eyes on him.

“You mentioned that you’re new here.”

“That’s right...” She replied, trailing off with a confused tone in her voice.

He sighed, unsure how to proceed. There was a very good chance that this was simply a miscommunication, so he wanted to tread carefully.

“While I was downstairs, another one of the courtesans was telling me how you had seen a lot of clients this past week. I wasn’t… I know that’s your own business, but I’m not sure what to make of it. It seemed to go against what you had told me.”

“Clients?” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “As in, my _own_ clients?”

“Yes.” He shifted uncertainly. “I know this is your profession, and it’s impolite of me to ask, but her account conflicted with yours. I just wanted to know …” He stopped and pressed his lips together firmly as he thought of the best way to phrase his concerns. “I wanted to know why there were discrepancies between your accounts.” He winced. That didn’t sound accusatory _at all_.

“Ah.” A look of understanding settled on her features. “Cullen, do you remember which woman told you this?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his temple as he thought back to the encounter. “She said her name was… Sabine?”

Ellana made an irritated noise deep in her throat and glanced away, not fast enough for him to miss the scowl that fleetingly appeared on her face.

“Well, that makes sense.” She remarked with a slight huff before turning back to him. “To answer your question, no, I haven’t been ‘busy’ in the way she mentioned. Anything I’ve told you was truthful.”

“I believe you, but why would she make something like that up?”

Ellana tucked her hair behind her ear, her bracelet jangling as she did so. “Sabine is incredibly ambitious, and, from what I’ve been told, she often resorts to manipulation to get what she wants. She has succeeded in chasing off several other girls so far. With that in mind, I suspect she was trying to sow discord between us.”

His scowl matched her own. “To what end?”

Ellana padded across the carpet to stand at the end of the bed, resting her left hand on the bedpost as she faced him.

“My guess? She doesn’t want me to have clients, or she wants to chase off the ones I have. I suspect it’s because she not only finds my presence distasteful, she also sees me as a threat to her business since there is a rather eager market for elven whores in Denerim. Apparently, we’re a highly sought-after commodity among the nobility.”

Her comment, delivered in such business-like terms, caused his gut to squeeze unpleasantly. For her to speak so casually about being a noble’s _thing_ rankled him. Hard.

“Additionally, she also wants you as her client.” Ellana continued.

“What? Why?”

“Well. You’re very handsome. ” Ellana explained calmly, as if she was pointing out that water was wet. He shifted uncomfortably and she continued again as if she didn’t notice.

“As for the claim she made about me, I know that it’s my word against hers, so let me try to explain.” She held up her fingers, ticking them off as she talked. “Firstly, I’m the cheapest girl here. If I _was_ as sought after as Sabine claimed, my price would have been set twice as high. Secondly, I spent the week attending dress fittings and attending private lectures to improve my woefully inadequate table manners. Those facts can be verified in the accounting books in the office. I simply wouldn’t have time for all the whoring she has attributed to me. Thirdly, I fell flat on my face in front of you, and a rather large part of that was due to the fact that I was nervous about having my first potential client.”

She shot him a crooked half-smile.

“If you’re still uncertain and you want additional confirmation about Sabine’s… inclination towards mischief… speak with any of the other courtesans here about her. Any one. Should you wish for a particularly colourful account, find the the Rivaini courtesan first.”

Cullen moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, scrubbing both hands over his face. “I believe you.” After a pause, he pulled his hands down and sighed. “I apologize. When she said those things, I was … hurt.”

Ellana’s eyebrows knitted together but her expression remained otherwise difficult to read.

He continued, feeling the need to explain. “When Sabine started telling me those tales, I began to worry that… that the Ellana I knew wasn’t the real Ellana.” He looked down and massaged his palm with his thumb as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “That was troubling, because I am …very fond of the Ellana that I know.” When he looked back up, Ellana’s expression had softened. “I apologize for doubting you.” He finished sincerely.

Ellana shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault Sabine tried to mislead you into thinking I was someone I wasn’t. Besides, I appreciate the fact that even when you’re frustrated, you’re still polite.”

Cullen exhaled and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes. Well. I can think of a few distinctly impolite words about Sabine right now.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to dispel a headache. “Why do Orlesians play unnecessary mind games every Maker-damned opportunity they get?”

Ellana tentatively moved around the bedpost to stand in front of him, close enough to touch him, but far enough away to give him space while he collected his thoughts.

“Sheer boredom? Too much rich food? I really don't know.”

Cullen grunted in response and held out an arm to encourage her to come closer. When she willingly stepped forward, he slid his hands to her sides, letting them settle low on her hips. The action felt comfortable, even though he had never been so openly familiar with her before. Judging by Ellana's relaxed expression, she was just as at ease with it.

“I feel I should mention that Sabine invited me to come join her in her room tonight. She was rather brazen about it.”

Ellana’s eyebrows raised in surprise as she looked down at him.

“So she’s waiting for you in her room right now?”

“Presumably.”

Guilt welled up inside him. When Sabine had touched him, he had felt the familiar tug of desire lurch inside of him, just for the barest few seconds. His own reaction still bothered him, even if it was understandable.

Ellana tilted her head and Cullen watched, fascinated, as her blonde hair slid down her shoulder like silk.

“You’re here now, though.” She smiled at him kindly, without any bitterness. At her words, the tightness in his chest loosened and he felt himself respond with a relieved half-smile.

“I am.”

His left hand encircled her waist so he could tug her in closer for an apologetic hug. Their mismatched positions made a true hug difficult, causing his forehead to press against her barely covered chest instead.

There were worse places to be, really.

He breathed in and realized with a fierce pang of satisfaction that she _smelled_ like him. After a day of sweating out details over the King’s war table, his red tunic didn’t smell like soap anymore, but the smell of her scent mingling with his own was better than even Sabine's alluring perfume. He stifled the urge to nuzzle her bare skin, then paused as he realized he wasn't exactly sure just _how_ bare she was.

“Are you… wearing anything under my shirt?” His heard his voice creak.

A brief laugh bubbled out of Ellana and she smoothed her hand lightly through his hair.

“I was wondering if you’d notice.”

He huffed petulantly in response, still holding her close.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“It most definitely wasn’t.” She beamed, her hand still gently stroking his hair. As if to dismiss herself, she patted his head twice and then pulled free of his embrace, gracefully climbing around him so she could sit against the headboard of the bed. When she settled down on the pillows, he slid his boots off and followed her, crawling over to take a seat beside her. Once he was comfortably seated beside her, she leaned against his shoulder as if she had done such a thing a thousand times before.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. After a long, stressful day, he found her presence to be more soothing than he could have imagined. She must have felt the same, as they sat like that for several moments before she spoke up.

“So. Did you really believe there was essentially a lineup of clients waiting for me outside my door?” Ellana asked, clearly entertained at the idea. Somehow, she didn’t seem at all scandalized. Cullen felt a blush warm his cheeks.

“No?” He hesitated. “Well, Maybe. … You’re very pretty.”

She bit back a grin and Cullen fought the urge to press his face into his palm and cringe. Void take him. The Chantry had uttered failed at teaching him how to talk to women. He glanced over and saw her wide smile, causing him to sigh.

“You’re going to tease me about this until I leave, aren’t you?”

“Oh, _relentlessly_. Even after you leave, if I can help it.” She nudged his shoulder playfully. “If you give me your address, I’ll be sure to send along some joyfully snarky letters every once in awhile.”

She pretended to pick up a quill and begin writing.

“Dear Cullen." She paused, sticking her tongue out slightly for effect. "Remember that time when you thought that men came from all over Ferelden to see my ...” Without warning, he grabbed a puffy pillow and smooshed it against her face playfully, cutting off her words and causing her to squawk indignantly. When he dropped the pillow back on his bed, she sniffed in mock irritation.

"Prude." She mumbled jokingly.

He chuckled, not denying it, then lifted his right arm to let her cuddle into his side. Taking her cue, Ellana snuggled comfortably against him, pulling his hand into her lap as she settled down. He watched with interest as she examined his palm, tracing her fingers lightly across his skin before touching a white line of scar tissue that ran across his knuckles. The teasingly light touches stirred a familiar, needy ache in him - one which seemed to happen quite often when she was around.

“I received that scar a long time ago, when I was...” He hesitated, reluctant to disclose his Templar training. “…When I was learning how to fight. I lowered my shield when I shouldn’t have.” He turned his wrist so he could see the mark as well. “Lesson learned, I suppose.”

Ellana hummed wordlessly and continued to run her fingers across the scars. Apparently unsatisfied with simple touches, she brought his large hand up to her mouth and laid a warm kiss on each knuckle. The move could have been motherly, were it not for the eye contact she was making with him. Cullen parted his lips in surprise and watched with fascination as her pink lips pressed gently against his rough skin. When each knuckle had been lovingly kissed, she lowered his hand and gazed up at him with bold eyes.

In that brief moment, Cullen felt the mood change. No longer languid and comfortable, the atmosphere between them was now heated and heavy, as if they were both waiting for something to happen. He felt his heartbeat quicken as she held his gaze, then watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as she pushed herself up to face him better.

The movement made him acutely aware of just how close she was and how easy it would be to reach out and tug her to him. It was maddening, and he made up his mind to do something about it.  With only a brief moment’s hesitation, Cullen slid his hand around her and gently pulled her towards him for a kiss, his thumb resting along her jaw. To his intense satisfaction, she reciprocated eagerly, shifting closer on the bed to place her arms around his neck. Her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of the whiskey they had been drinking earlier. The sensation of tasting fine alcohol on a woman’s lips was too much, and Cullen couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan.

Andraste help him, he already felt like he was barely holding on to his self-restraint. When she started to card her fingers lightly through the back of his hair, his resolve slipped another notch.

 _Maker’s fucking breath._ There were so many things he wanted to do to her.

He wanted to guide her back on the soft covers and position himself over her, letting her feel his weight as he pushed himself on top of her.

He wanted to skim his hand under her open shirt while he kissed her, licking the smoky whiskey off her beautiful lips.

He wanted to pull her naked legs around his waist and know just how warm the skin of her thighs felt against his own bare hips.

That final thought, combined with the very real sensation of her hands in his hair, made him shiver. He knew then, without a doubt, he had to stop, or he’d never find the willpower to do so later. He begrudgingly pulled back and he felt her press her face into the warmth of his neck, exhaling appreciatively.

“Cullen...” She breathed near his ear. “Did you want me to teach you about elven women now?”

He felt that strong tug of desire low in his gut and he cursed inwardly. When it came to temptation, he'd had an easier time denying himself lyrium.

“Yes. Maker, _yes_. I just… I should stop.” He fumbled for more words. “I don’t want to, but I should.”

His declaration was met with a few beats of silence.

“Cullen…” Ellana pulled back and touched her top lip with her tongue, hesitating. “I’ve been meaning to ask about something. You mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if you were found patronizing a brothel.”

He nodded. _Not that it would be good for anyone, really._

“It’s just…” She bit her bottom lip and hesitated again, as if she was reluctant to speak. “You mentioned that you’re here in Denerim for work. Based on that, I’m guessing that you’re worried your stay here will reflect poorly on whatever work that is, so you stop yourself from going farther with me because chaste behavior would prevent problems if you were discovered. Is that it?”

He nodded again, reluctantly feeling the sharp edge of his lust begin to dull as the moment passed.

“Essentially, yes, that’s it.”

“But… that mentality seems a bit naïve to me. No matter how noble your behavior is here, all people will hear is that you stayed in a brothel. The damage is already _done_. No one would believe you if you claimed you remained celibate while staying in a brothel. Especially as you’ve stayed for multiple nights.”

The feeling of being confronted with the frank truth was unpleasant.

“I know.” He released his hold on Ellana and let his head thud back on the wooden headboard, his mouth set in a thin line. “I think I realized that fact the first night I arrived, but I was trying to hold on to the idea that my word would be accepted if the news got out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at her, his brow furrowed unhappily. “It _is_ naïve, isn’t it?”

“And admirable. Not everyone is so loyal to their profession.” Ellana squeezed his hand gently. “Also, I want you to know that I’ll keep your visit discrete.” She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the top of it in a quick, consoling gesture. “I just wanted to be sure I knew the reason that you were pulling back. I don’t want to cross boundaries or make you uncomfortable.”

Cullen nodded, comprehending another unsaid message in her voice quite clearly.

He glanced down at her hand which lay still entwined in his. “I want you to know that my reluctance had nothing to do with you. If anything, you… make this very difficult for me.” He frowned. “In the best way.”

Ellana’s lips twitched up in tenuous smile. “Mm. I wasn’t sure how you felt. Truthfully, I had considered the idea that you might be... ah... inexperienced with women or, alternatively, displeased by the fact that I’m a prostitute.”

Cullen frowned. “Neither. Definitely neither.”

At his response, Ellana’s shaky smile turned into a wide grin.

“Somehow, you just managed to be both cocky and reassuring at the same time.” When he gave a short, shy laugh, her smile softened. “You know... There are other things we can do. ...If you don’t want to have sex.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly bashful. “If you want.”

He hesitated. He was definitely standing on that slippery slope again. If he gave in, he’d be potentially abandoning his only defense if he were questioned about this later. If Cassandra were to ask for details (Maker, she’d better not do that again) he would likely have a hard time lying to her.

And yet… He and Ellana had already established that everyone would assume the worst of him anyway.

.

He looked over to her and fought off a smile. She was doing her best to remain carefully neutral, but the brightness of her eyes and the way her body leaned towards him gave her emotions away. She was excited by the idea, and Cullen was reminded of, perhaps inappropriately, a mabari puppy that he had recently seen in the King’s stables. The tiny thing had been told to ‘sit’ and ‘stay’, but it had had a hard time controlling its excited wiggles as it waited.

Granted, Ellana was definitely not a mabari, nor was she wiggling, but the barely contained excitement in her eyes was the same.

_Fuck it._

It was no one else’s Maker-damned business what he did anyway. He had done so much for Thedas. He could take just this.

Cullen gave her a guilty smile and ran a hand loosely through his hair.

“To be honest, that same thought had crossed my mind a few times, especially after last night.” He ducked his head. “I'd like to, if that’s oka…”

Before he could finish, Ellana let out an excited noise and clambered onto his lap, causing him to tumble back onto the soft bedclothes. She immediately straddled his chest with an exultant smile and looked down, her long, blonde hair framing her face. To his satisfaction, the fabric of his red tunic draped open, fully revealing her breasts to him. Small and pert, they made for two beautiful handfuls.

“Yes?” She asked, looking down with bright eyes.

“Yes.” He grinned back, feeling his excitement begin to build again. Freed from his restrictions, Cullen didn’t know what to do first – kiss her fiercely or slide his hands under her clothes to run his hands over her slender body. As his gaze darted between her breasts and her eyes, Ellana chuckled at his obvious indecision.

“Anything you like, Cullen.” She said encouragingly.

Decision made, he reached up with his left hand and skimmed her breast lightly, testing the feel of her before he fully took it in his hand. Cullen practically rumbled with appreciation; it was as soft as his guilty mind had imagined.

At the sensation of his palm on her body, Ellana's breath left her lips in a quiet gasp and she leaned into him, pressing herself into the warmth of his hands. He marveled at the sight of her perched atop his chest, her eyes closed in deep satisfaction as he stroked her.

Andraste preserve him, she had soft skin.

“You know… I still have no idea what you’re wearing under my shirt.” He grumbled as he distractedly caressed under her nipple with his thumb.

“You can check if you like.” She replied, almost sighing with contentment at his touch.

Feeling daring, he slid his hand off her breast and pulled up on the hem of the tunic to reveal her hip, clad in a light pink pair of silky smallclothes.

“Pink?” He tore his eyes away from her hip to raise one eyebrow at her.

She opened her eyes. “I like pink.” She replied with a hint of challenge.

Cullen grunted. “Fair enough.” With that, he reached down and ran his fingers teasingly across the curve of her ass, wholehearted loving the way it felt in his hands. “By the way. I enjoy the way you look in my clothes. Very much.”

She huffed an airy laugh, a bit breathless. “I can see that.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “’Like’ is probably today’s biggest understatement.”

She beamed and leaned down and to deliver a short, passionate kiss - one which he responded to with pure enthusiasm. When she leaned back up a moment later, Cullen openly admired her, his fingers lightly caressing her thighs as he did so.

“I… I can think of at least three prayers about temptation that I should probably be reciting right now.” He half-joked.

She chuckled again, her eyes warm.

“Prayers are lovely, but I can think of other things I’d rather do at the moment.” She pulled her hair over one shoulder in a move that was almost insecure. “Can I touch you?”

He squeezed her thighs gently, enjoying the smoothness of them under his palms. “Yes. But only if you genuinely want to. I don’t want you to feel pressured in this.”

“I want to.” She immediately replied. “I’ve wanted to since the first night, but now that I know you, I want you more than ever.”

He nodded, silently thrilled at the revelation. Ellana smiled reassuringly, mistaking his quiet pride for hesitance.

“I won’t do anything but use my hands.” She informed him soothingly, gently sliding herself down his body in a move to re-position herself between his thighs. The sensation of her body sliding down over his erection caused him to bite back a low groan.

Oh, Maker, he had missed this. Defeating Corypheus had been fiercely satisfying; the knowledge that he had helped to save Thedas had given him the deepest sense of pride he had ever felt in his life. Compared to those emotions, the simple pleasure of being with a woman seemed almost insignificant. And yet, at this moment, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

The sight of Ellana leaning over him, rucking his shirt up with gentle hands and teasing touches, caused him to sigh gruffly with pleasure. At the noise, Ellana's eyes flicked up to his quickly before traveling back down to the cord of his pants, unaware of the intense satisfaction he was feeling as they both worked to free him from his clothes. Her mind set only on the task, she loosened the cord of his pants and tugged them down to his thighs, baring him completely.

“What can I do to help?” He mumbled, feeling self-conscious as he propped himself up on his elbows. He held himself tensely as he waited, not entirely sure what she intended to do.

“Relax." She replied as she reached over to pull a small bottle of oil off her bedside table. "Just relax and help me learn.”

“Do you want me to get your book?” He joked to ease some of the tension that had crept between them.

She grinned impishly and then mimed licking her thumb and turning a page.

“Step one: pull down his pants.”

Cullen’s answering chuckle was cut short as she poured a small amount of oil into her palm and unceremoniously closed her slicked up hand around his cock.

He groaned softly at the contact, gradually allowing himself to savor the illicit sensation. Her hand was steady and confident as she experimentally gave a few slow, slick pumps, and when she followed up with a very gentle twisting motion, he felt his elbows give out. With a shocked noise, he collapsed back down onto the pillow.

“Cullen, guide me.”

His brain took a little too long to process her request, so she took ahold of his hand and placed it over her own. Without missing a beat, his fingers closed over hers, causing hers to tighten her grip on his cock, showing her the exact pressure he preferred. The feeling of their hands wrapped together elicited another breathy groan from him.

"Void, Ellana. This... this is good." He said, referring to absolutely bloody everything. She shot him a preoccupied smile and began working him in a steady rhythm; a slow and slick pace which had him panting in no time. There was nothing complex about her actions, no fancy tricks from her Orlesian instruction guide - just a firm, steady pressure, slowly driving him wild.

As amazing as it felt, he was just as fascinated with her reaction. She was clearly enjoying the feeling of his hand guiding hers over his cock, as evidenced by the satisfied blush that heated her cheeks and the shy smile that graced her lips. To add to his pleasure, her shirt (his shirt?) had slipped open further, revealing a tantalizing view of her breasts as she moved. Fade take him, he wanted to touch them again, but she was too far away for him to do anything more than fumble awkwardly for them. Instead, he contented himself with watching her small hand wring such intense pleasure from him. It was intoxicating to watch.

When her other hand ran up his muscled thigh, he closed his eyes and gasped. "Ellana... Perfect.” He gritted out, releasing his grip on hand, satisfied that she had no trouble keeping the pace he preferred. In very short order, he felt a strong orgasm begin to build deep inside of him, causing him to press his hips up into her hand as he became increasingly desperate for release. “Ellana…” He warned her, gasping. “... please don't stop.”

Maker. When had his voice gotten so ragged?

Ellana nodded, her face set in determination as her small, slick hand kept the pace so well. Cullen let out a jerky breath, silently begging her not to stop or alter her movements. He was so fucking close. A few more fast, slick pumps and he cried out, arching his back as pleasure pulsed through him, greater than what he could’ve ever achieved on his own. Ellana tightened her hand almost imperceptively and his orgasm intensified even more, causing him to come even harder across his own stomach.

He yelled, and somewhere within the haze of his mind, he realized he had been gripping the sheets above his head, the fabric twisted in his fists.

 He gingerly released the sheets and eventually glanced over to her, his breath slowly returning to normal. Ellana knelt between his thighs, her cheek smudged with an oily streak of lubricant, no doubt from when she tried to push her hair back at one point.

“Alright?” She asked, her face flushed and serious. He smiled reassuringly and she climbed over his thigh so she could settle down beside him on the bed. The mattress creaked below her as she curled against him, wrapping an arm high across his chest to avoid smearing cum across him.

Still feeling dazed, he pulled her close with one arm, ignoring the mess for now.

“Andraste help me, I don’t want to leave.” He heard himself mumble the hushed words against her hair, meaning every damned word.

Ellana nudged him tenderly – an action that was something in between a nuzzle and a gentle headbutt. “I don’t want you to leave either.” She murmured, and Cullen heard more than a little sadness in her voice. “I like you here with me.”

Cullen sighed, an odd mix of remorse and joy. Up until that point, he had been safe. No matter how much he enjoyed his time with Ellana, he would return to Skyhold with fond memories and little else. Ellana would go on to completely charm the nobles of Denerim, and he would run the Inquisition’s forces back at Skyhold with all the professionalism he had always demanded of himself. He didn’t doubt that he would regret saying goodbye, but he could write to her, and perhaps even come to see her on occasion.

But something had changed tonight. As he lay there with Ellana cozily nestled in his arms, he found himself thinking of ways he could stay in Denerim with her. The longer he dwelled on the idea, the more outrageous his ideas became. When he even found himself wondering if the Inquisition still required a commander, however, he knew he was completely and utterly screwed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Cullen gets some advice from Alistair that helps him make up his mind. Following his return from the castle, Cullen and Ellana begin their last night at the brothel.


	7. Three Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana realizes that she feels more strongly for Cullen than she should. Meanwhile, King Alistair makes a suggestion that Cullen takes to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceren, I thought about your comment about Cullen and Alistair not knowing each other beforehand. I love the idea that they know each other, but I ended up going with more of a 'near miss' thing. (When playing Origins, it's possible to leave Alistair out of your party during the Circle Tower quest, so he and Cullen never see each other.)
> 
> PS: The interior of the ["Rosa in Fiore" ](http://assassinscreed.wikia.com/wiki/Rosa_in_Fiore) from Assassin's Creed was the basis for the brothel in this fic. Le Cygne D'Or has more blue and more marble veneer, though.

Cullen was leaving Denerim tomorrow.

Alone in her room, Ellana hugged a pillow to her chest tightly at the thought, grateful for even the flimsy comfort it offered.

From the first moment Cullen had asked to stay the night, Ellana had known their relationship would end within days, if not hours. It was the nature of her work; a fact that she had easily accepted when she first began. Now, that same knowledge left her feeling scraped out and empty on the inside; sad in a way that she hardly understood.

It was an odd feeling, considering how little she knew the man. His full name, his age, his favorite colour - those details, and a thousand more that she ached to know - were still mysteries to her.

All she really knew was that she would miss him when he left. Certainly more than she should, considering her line of work. She couldn’t even describe why; he hadn’t awed her with grand titles or charmed her with unlimited charisma. He was just… Cullen. Cullen, who laughed at her clumsy jokes, treated her with unwavering kindness, and graciously let her steal his blankets at night.

As his time in Denerim grew shorter, Ellana had actively tried to suppress her feelings, but with each passing hour she felt the loneliness looming.

Cullen’s mood, for his part, seemingly matched her own. That morning, he’d somberly collected his things together, placing them in a neat pile by her door in preparation for his upcoming journey home. Little by little, the tidy stack grew until his belongings sat in one place, ready to be carefully packed in his saddlebags the next morning. Ellana had watched from him the bed, nestled in their disheveled sheets, trying to brighten the mood with light talk and stories of her early life with the Dalish elves. The distraction had worked for a time, and he had left the room with a smile on his lips and the promise to return at dinnertime.

Once the door had clicked shut, however, Ellana had remained huddled in the sheets - a dark brooding lump marring the golden splendor of her Orlesian bed. The fact that another client was coming next week to take Cullen's place did nothing to soothe that hollow ache she felt in her chest; instead, it honed her sadness into something sharp and painful.

Her unexpected feelings had led her to flee to Vandal’s room in the hopes that the fiery Rivaini’s constant, bawdy chatter would offer her a pleasant distraction.

It didn’t.

 

* * *

 

“Here, drink this.”

Vandal passed a cup of hot tea to Ellana as soon as she entered the Rivaini's exotically decorated bedroom. Ellana took the cup and inhaled the spiced scent. Tea, not brandy this time. She almost would have preferred the latter. As she took a careful sip, Vandal's dark, kohl-lined eyes met hers.

“Ellana, you should know that this morning, one of the kitchen staff heard Sabine spreading rumors, claiming that you had a disease.”

Ellana’s cup nearly tumbled from her fingers.

“What?! I haven’t even…why would she?”

That sort of rumor could end a woman’s career in before it even started. With a slight shake of her head, Vandal took a seat on a nearby chaise lounge, motioning for Ellana to do the same.

“Unfortunately, it looks as though Sabine has decided to target you. Rather ferociously, I might add.” Vandal’s expression softened. “I promise, I won’t let her drive you away. I reported her behavior to Madame Simard this morning.” Vandal took a slow, appreciative sip of her tea and grinned. “By the Maker, Simard was so angry. You don’t spread rumors about that around here. She looked like she was about to shit a nug when she found out.”

“Well. That’s a lovely visual. Thank you.” Ellana remarked exasperatedly, still clutching the teacup tightly as she remained standing. Reading Ellana’s unsettled mood, Vandal’s pleased smile faded.

“Ellana, try not to worry. I suspect if Sabine does one more manipulative thing, she’ll be ousted from here faster than she can say ‘I’m a terrible human being’. Madame Simard is tired of losing girls to her petty bullshit.”

Ellana frowned and carefully swished the tea in the delicate cup, watching as the dark liquid sloshed around.

“As satisfying as that sounds, I can’t help but wonder where Sabine would end up if she was fired.”

Vandal waved her hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about her. So many men have proposed to her over the years. She’ll just go find the richest, most horrible one, marry him, and then they can go and both be horrible together.” Vandal's sly grin returned. “It’ll be like a beautiful fairy tale.”

Ellana took a sip of tea, her eyes distant and troubled. Seeing her disquiet, Vandal pinched her lips together in a tight frown.

“Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”

Ellana nodded and finally took a seat on a cushioned chair across from Vandal, who was now watching her with sharp eyes.

“I saw Cullen here yesterday evening. He stayed another night, then?”

At the mention of Cullen’s name, Ellana’s lips turned up in a soft smile, thankful for the change in subjects, even if it was bittersweet.

“He did. His last night is tonight, and then he’ll be leaving.”

“To where?”

“I… don’t actually know. He doesn’t live in Denerim, though. I haven’t pushed him for details because he seems like a very private person and I didn’t want to badger him.” Ellana tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and frowned. “I should find out. Unless… is that against some sort of rule?”

“Not really, no. Go ahead and ask him. I’m certain he’d tell you.”

Ellana paused in the act of taking another sip of tea. “Why do you say that?”

“Aside from the fact that the man likes you enough to pay for four nights in the city’s most expensive brothel? Well, for one, it’s remarkably easy to read him. For example, the other day, I saw you heading upstairs with him. You were walking slightly in front of him and he went to reach for your hand, then he clenched his fingers and pulled back as if he was nervous.”

“Really?” She hadn’t noticed at all. It struck her as odd that a man who was all muscles, scars, and seriousness could be nervous around _her_.

Vandal nodded. “He seems quite taken with you.”

“Oh.” Ellana looked down at her tea, feeling hope flare to life in her chest. “I… hope so.”

 _Creators_ , she wished it were true. She wouldn't know what to do with that information if it were true, but the thought of it thrilled her nonetheless.

Vandal shrewdly narrowed her eyes. “You like him too, don’t you?”

Ellana distractedly swirled the tea around some more, knowing that her feelings were too obvious to deny. “That’s a bad thing, isn’t it? At least, it’s a bad thing here.”

Vandal shrugged easily. “Madame Simard would tell you that. It happens sometimes though. Some girls fall in love and leave the brothel to have beautifully happy endings. They end up as buxom, happy wives with doting husbands and great, bawdy stories to tell. Others end up back here, heartbroken and determined to throw themselves into work in order to get over the sting. Guess which one Sabine is?”

Ellana blinked. She’d never given the woman’s back-story a second thought. She’d just assumed the woman had been born scowling.

“Really?”

“Yes. Don’t try talking to her about it, though. She’ll eat you alive.” Vandal looked Ellana straight in the eyes, her expression suddenly solemn. “All I know is, for all the beauty and money we see, this place is a gilded shit. If you have an opportunity for a better, happier life, you should take it.”

 

* * *

***

When Josie had originally informed Cullen that he’d be negotiating directly with the King of Ferelden, Cullen had been silently intimidated at the idea. Although he had heard the rumors of the king's good nature, he couldn't help but picture himself bowing to a stern-faced man and his equally fierce Queen - Grey Wardens to the hilt.

He certainly _hadn’t_ pictured himself chatting easily to the king in the _royal stables_ , of all places, surrounded by the sounds of restless horses and the sweet, earthy smell of straw and horse droppings. For that matter, he definitely hadn’t pictured the king leaning on the stable door in an openly relaxed manner, watching as Cullen groomed his warhorse in preparation for the journey back to the brothel.

The reality of it was ... pleasant.

Whether it was due to their similar backgrounds or the king's good-natured temperament, Cullen was remarkably at ease with the man. In truth, Cullen had panicked when the king had accidentally overheard Cassandra pressing him about the brothel earlier that morning, but the king had been pleasantly understanding. A little wide-eyed and amused when Cullen felt the need to explain his situation, but still understanding. Remarkably less so than Cassandra, actually, who had taken the news with a gloriously unimpressed sigh.

Strangely, the news that Cullen had awkwardly bumbled into a brothel had firmly endeared the commander to his king, who seemed to think the whole situation absolutely fascinating. Alistair, who had greeted Cullen as a Templar brother right from the start, even seemed to loosen up and let some of his more kingly mannerisms slip as the day's meeting progressed. By the time they had wrapped up the last of the peacekeeping negotiations, the two men had formed a sort of tentative friendship as Cassandra looked on with quiet satisfaction. To Cullen's humble surprise, the king had even insisted on escorting him to the stables at the end of the day, unwilling to let the commander go so easily.

As a result, Cullen found himself grooming his horse while the king leaned on the stall, his arms resting on the waist-high wooden door. Alistair seemed particularly interested in Cullen's notoriously moody warhorse, officially named Calenhad, who had bitten three grooms and tried to stamp on at least one pet nug since he had been stabled at the castle.

“How many times has he bitten you?” Alistair asked, watching the grey horse curiously.

“Once.” Cullen remarked with an unimpressed tone, focusing intently as he brushed the horse’s high back. “He learned rather quickly that biting a man in full silverite armor was not an especially clever idea.”

Alistair made a noise of agreement deep in his throat. “I wish the darkspawn would have applied the same logic.” He frowned. “Or even just Barkspawn.” Cullen glanced over with a questioning look and Alistair shrugged. “Elissa had this mabari who thought it was funny to wake me up in the morning with love bites. Not real bites, really… more of a nip, actually, but having a playful mabari in your tent is not always as fun as it sounds.”

“I can see that.” Cullen smiled, charmed at the idea. A comfortable silence followed as Cullen placed the brush back on a nearby shelf and moved to pick up Calenhad’s saddle blanket.

“So. Speaking of interesting sleeping accommodations…” Alistair remarked casually. “I was wondering. The brothel you’re staying at…”

Cullen cast a brief look towards Alistair as the king trailed off. The other man had the grace to look a little awkward, as if he knew the question was inappropriate, but wanted to see what he could get away with. To his surprise, Cullen didn't mind the question much.

“I know this is terribly inelegant of me to ask, but…what’s it like?” Alistair watched Cullen with an earnestly curious expression.

Cullen’s face must have betrayed his surprise, because Alistair hurriedly began to explain himself.

“Don't misunderstand, I adore Elissa and I would never do anything questionable. Maker's breath. She killed an archdemon; no woman can compete with that. It's just... the rumors that I hear about the Orlesian brothel are pretty wild.” 

Cullen paused in the act of adjusting the saddle blanket on Calenhad's back.

“What kind of rumors?” Cullen asked, curious to hear what the people of Denerim thought of Ellana’s place of employment.

“Oh. The typical things. How well the Orlesian courtesans kiss. How, one time, one of the ladies attended a Satinalia feast wearing nothing but a silk Orlesian flag.” Alistair paused and there was a moment of silence as they both contemplated the logistics of that news. “Also, last month, apparently one of the courtesans stole a noble’s clothes while they were meeting at the Gnawed Noble. The story goes that this Rivaini lady apparently took objection to her… ah… paramours’ disrespectful language towards her profession. She ended up leaving the tavern with all this 'gentleman's' clothes, leaving him to slink home in her dress. She even stole the man’s pipe.”

Cullen snorted in amusement. “I haven’t heard anything like that, but from what I’ve seen, I suspect there might be some truth in the tales.” Cullen hefted his saddle onto Calenhad's back before he realized that he still hadn’t answered the king’s original question.

“Forgive me, you asked about brothel itself. To answer your question, it’s certainly very Orlesian. Everything is either covered in gold or tassels. Or golden tassels.” He made a face as he tightened the saddle's cinch, then let the saddle fender drop back down. “The ladies are beautiful, but not all of them are... ah... like Ellana, the woman who has kindly let me share her room. Were it not for her, I would truthfully rather stay in a tent surrounded by canvas-hungry nugs. I will say that the food is very good, though.”

Alistair hummed with appreciation at the mention of good food. “Well, the next time you come to Denerim, you’re more than welcome to come stay at the castle instead.

Cullen grinned at him from across Calenhad’s back.

“I appreciate the invitation, Your Majesty. I do think perhaps I’ll be coming to Denerim more often.”

“But not for my endlessly charming wit, though, is it?” Alistair asked shrewdly. Seeing Cullen’s surprised look, the king swiftly held up a hand in apology. “I’m sorry, Commander. I shouldn’t have overstepped. Unfortunately, the Ferelden crown doesn't instantly endow me with greater tact.”

“No, I don’t mind, Your Majesty.” Cullen remarked neutrally. “I’m admittedly in… a complicated situation.”

“How so?” Alistair asked.

Cullen paused, not sure what to tell the king. After a brief moment of indecision, he opted for the truth, albeit a very glossed over version. Cullen knew his limits; he was a terrible liar.

"Cassandra thinks it would be smartest for me to distance myself from this situation as soon as possible." Cullen made a face. "She's undoubtedly correct, but..." He hesitated. "I enjoy the company of Ellana a great deal, and, to be frank, I worry for her well-being at the brothel."

Alistiar's eyebrows raised. “She's not safe there?”

"She is and she isn't.” Cullen fiddled with the reigns, thinking of Sabine's dislike of Ellana. "I don't think she's in physical danger, from her colleagues at least, but the environment there seems a tad... toxic."

“Hmm.” Alistair distractedly drummed his fingers on the top of the stable door. “Would she rather work elsewhere?"

Cullen patted Calenhad's dappled neck distractedly. "I suspect so. She seems to be a very capable woman, and I know she's not content to stay there for good."

The king hummed thoughtfully. "Wouldn't you be in a good position to help her find alternative employment? If that's what she wants." Alistair idly scratched his ear. "I could also see what I could do, if you like. I mean, not officially, but I could have someone look into it."

Cullen stared at Calenhad's saddle, his eyes glassy as he mulled over Alistair’s words. "She... might like that. I think. Although she's very independent. She also might object on principle."

"Really? That surprises me. Then again, what do I know about women?” Alistair remarked. “I once asked Leliana if she was a female.”

Caught off guard by the confession, Cullen let out a noise that was something between a cough and a laugh. “How... how did that go?”

Alistair shrugged. “About how you’d expect. I think she managed to insult me and tell me that I was charming at roughly the same time. I'm still not sure which it was.”

“Sounds like Leliana.” Cullen remarked, his mind still tumbling over Alistair’s suggestion. Would Ellana be interested in leaving? Would it be disrespectful to assume she needed his help to leave? As Cullen continued to ruminate, Alistair spoke up.

“I hate to say it, but I need to go back upstairs to get the final documents sealed and sent to the Inquisitor. I should also compose a message to the current Orlesian diplomat. She gets grumpy if I don't keep her informed of things.”

Cullen shifted Calenhad’s reigns to his left hand. “I'll take my leave, then." He said, switching back to a more formal tone. "Your Majesty, it’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Alistair gave him a genuine smile. “I’d shake your hand, but I think I’m just going to stay back. From what the grooms have said, your horse is a monster that has an appetite for people fingers.”

Cullen frowned. “Unfortunately, it’s not far from the truth. I should have chosen to ride a different horse, but he’s got stamina for long rides.” Calenhad lazily flicked an ear and Cullen shot him an unimpressed glance. “I think he’s fueled by pure spite.”

Alistair nodded and stepped back from the door as Cullen led the large horse from the stable into the courtyard with King Alistair following a few steps behind. When they cleared the low, thatched roof, Cullen swung up onto the saddle without any fanfare. The clouds above rumbled threateningly, and Cullen was eager to get back to the brothel before the weather turned.

“Thank you again, Your Majesty.” He remarked diplomatically. "I know the Inquisitor will be pleased with the results of our negotiations."

“You’re welcome, Commander." Alistair gave him an easy smile. "Keep in touch. I'm curious to see how this turns out.”

Cullen nervously squeezed the reigns until the leather creaked. "So am I."

 

* * *

 ***

It was seven o’clock in the evening and Cullen hadn’t returned to the brothel yet.

Ellana perched impatiently on a wooden stool at the bar in the brothel’s lounge, her dainty, slippered feet hanging several inches from the floor. She had been nursing a glass of dry red wine for the past twenty minutes, hoping to catch Cullen as soon as he arrived. As it turned out, loitering in the lounge hadn’t been the brightest idea she had had that day. In the short time she had been waiting, she had managed to attract the attention of several clients, including a stocky Ferelden man who had been eyeing her surreptitiously for nearly the whole time she had been waiting.

She debated going back to her room, but just as she drained the last of her wine, the main door swung open and a slightly sodden Cullen stepped inside. Like the first night, his clothing hung wet and heavy on his shoulders, the result of a brief summer rainstorm that must have caught him on the way back from … wherever it was he had been all day.

“Cullen!” Ellana chirped as he entered, hopping down off the stool. He looked up and smiled broadly as he spotted her. Abandoning her empty glass at the bar, she crossed the lounge as swiftly as decorum would allow and slid up to his side as he handed his weapons over to the front desk.

“How was your day?” He asked contentedly as she sidled up to him.

“Well enough.” She replied, choosing to skim over Sabine’s most recent sabotage attempts. She'd deal with that situation tomorrow. She wanted to focus on Cullen tonight. “I found out what they’re making for dinner tonight. Tiny chicken-things. Quails?” Ellana made little patting motions with her delicate hands to show how small they were. “I walked by the kitchen earlier and the counter was covered in a whole flock of little naked birds, all ready to be stuffed.”

His scarred lip twisted up in a wry smile. “I feel like this is where I’m supposed to make some off-colour joke about how appropriate that is.”

Ellana chuckled and looped her arm through his in an affectionate gesture, enjoying the feeling of him, however damp. When his weapons were safely stowed behind the desk, they began to walk towards the stairs towards her room.

“Forgive me, I didn’t ask.” Ellana apologized. “How was your day?”

He made a contented noise, almost a hum. “It was … very satisfactory. We wrapped up our work here in Denerim, everyone seems to be satisfied, and I received some good ideas from a... friend.” He gently nudged her. “Also, I believe you promised to teach me about elves.”

She glowed, lifting the hem of her dress slightly as they climbed the stairs. “I'd be happy to. The first thing you should know is...” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Our ears often make it difficult to find well-fitting hats.”

Cullen blinked. "Is that so?" He mulled her words over for a few moments as they crested the stairs. “I never thought about that, but it _does_ make sense.”

Ellana nodded and guided him to her dark, wooden door. With one smooth gesture, she turned the doorknob and pushed it open with her behind, stepping backwards as she did so. He grinned and followed her into the room, and Ellana was struck by how _different_ tonight was from their first night, despite some obvious similarities. For one, he seemed happy.

"This reminds me a little of your first night here." She commented as the door closed. When the it clicked shut and they stood in the quiet privacy of her room, she reached out to run several fingers over his damp maroon mantle.

"The thought had crossed my mind. How things have changed." He mumbled, watching her absently trace the gold border design of the fabric. Something in his tone made her eyes dart up to his and she saw a darkness in his gaze that she hadn't seen before. Unlike some of other men she had met at the brothel, the look wasn't belittling or intimidating. It was simply intense, as if nothing could distract him from her at that moment.

As if on cue, he gently grasped her hand and pulled her into a firm embrace, wrapping his heavy arms around her small frame. All at once, she was struck with several new sensations: the rain dampened, almost earthy smell of his wet mantle; the faint sound of his breath in her sensitive ear, the coolness of his wet clothes against her own silken dress.

“Ahh... Cullen!" She yelped, feeling the dampness through her thin clothing. "You’re soaking my dress.” He pulled back in surprise and she looked down at the large wet spot on the bodice of her flimsy dress. To her surprise, he squinted his eyes mischievously at her, prompting Ellana to point her finger at him with mock sterness.

“Don’t! _Don’t._ ” She remarked, cutting off any lewd comment he would have made. He said nothing, although his eyes remained cheerfully bright. Ellana huffed a short laugh. “You must have had a good day. You're in an interesting mood.”

“I am.” He replied, turning his wrist over so he could begin unbuckling his vambraces. “Everything went well today, but more importantly, I'm very happy to be here with you.” Ellana noted with pleasure that he didn't seem at all self-conscious as he admitted it. Rather, he seemed almost endearingly content.

“Oh.” She replied as she watched him toss the vambrace onto the thick carpet, his eyes focused on her. “Mmm. I'm really beginning to think that you aren't the inexperienced man I originally took you for.” She joked, leaning against the wall as she watched him remove his armor. "Please forgive me for that, by the way."

Cullen suddenly paused in the act of tugging off the other vambrace. To Ellana’s surprise, he abandoned the attempt and stepped back into her space, placing himself within mere inches of her.

“You’ve mentioned that before, so I’m curious.” He rumbled, his voice low and entertained. “What made you change your mind?” The sound of his voice near her sensitive ear did delicious things to her and Ellana felt a delighted shiver run down her spine at the feeling of being corralled by such a large man. 

“I don’t know, but I think… maybe you know what you’re doing.” She raised her chin defiantly, catching his gaze. “I think that somewhere behind all that chivalry and blushing, there’s a man that doesn’t really need a book to tell him what to do.”

He chuckled modestly. “I wouldn’t go that far. I do find the book rather handy.”

At the sound of his low breath near her ear, she felt a deliciously warm tingling sensation stir deep inside. With some other lovers, that lustful feeling had flickered and then quickly disappeared, or never even ignited in the first place. With Cullen, that deep, indescribable sensation flared bright and hot, intensifying with each moment he stood near her. Creators, it felt good, and he had barely done anything but murmur in her ear.

“I’ll bet.” Ellana replied, rubbing her neck a tad sheepishly. “I wish... I wish I had a book for you." When he tilted his head curiously, she continued. "There’s still so much I don’t know about you. Not even your last name.”

Cullen adjusted his stance, placing his hands on the wall above her head, clearly now more concerned about their proximity than their surnames.

“It’s Rutherford.” He rumbled absently. "May I kiss you?" When Ellana nodded, he leaned in and placed a slow, hot kiss on her neck just below her ear.

“Rutherford…” She repeated, trying to focus on the name instead of the suddenly thrilling feeling of his lips on her skin. There was something familiar about his name, but Creators, it was hard to think right now. For some reason, Cullen's reservations about touch seemed to have dramatically diminished tonight. She meant to question him about it, but the moment her mind attempted to form words, he flicked his tongue along her pulse point and Ellana's mind blanked. With a pleased sigh, she automatically tilted her head to give him better access, relishing the feeling of his bold tongue on her skin. Whatever had triggered a change in him, it was _wonderful._

“Help me with this. Why does your name sound familiar?” She remarked tightly as she tried to focus on two things at once.

“Mm. I have no idea.” He muttered against her neck, too preoccupied to give her question much thought. He dipped his head so he could place more soft kisses along her neck, moving one hand down from the wall to pull her small waist up against his. At the same time, his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot on Ellana’s neck and she hummed with appreciation.

Oh, _Creators_. Shy Cullen was lovely. Confident Cullen was _wonderful._

Gone was his puppyish flirting, his politely restrained touches. Cullen’s mouth roamed over her skin without restraint as he pressed against her, letting her feel his very focused, very obvious desire. She wet her lips, wondering faintly where the old Cullen had gone.

“Is this okay?” He asked, pulling back after a moment. His eyes were clouded with lust, but his expression remained careful.

 _Ah_ , she thought with some amusement. _Right there._

“Absolutely.” Ellana replied in a breathy voice, placing her arms around his back and tugging his damp body against her own. Distracted as she was with Cullen’s re-ignited enthusiasm for kisses, Ellana continued to mull the name over in her mind, trying to get rid of the nagging feeling that persisted. _Cullen Rutherford._ Ellana repeated the name in her head another time and suddenly, something clicked together.

“Hm. You have the same name as… the…” She trailed off, lapsing into silence as two previously unrelated thoughts connected. “You’re _that_ Cullen Rutherford?!”

Cullen pulled back slightly again, his expression baffled. “I…have no idea? Yes? Are there more?”

Ellana blanched. “You’re the Cullen Rutherford that led the armies of the Inquisition in the battle of the Arbor Wilds? The same one that is currently in talks with the … Divine and the King of Ferelden?” Her lips tripped over the titles as she spoke them. She could feel herself growing a little dizzy as her mind caught up with her words. “That’s why you’re here in Denerim?”

Cullen winced. “Yes?”

Ellana wailed in surprised shock as he confirmed her guess. “You’ve been at… the castle this whole time?!”

“Ah... Yes.” He winced again at the sound of her voice.

“Creators!” She shuffled sideways against the wall and he pushed off of it, giving her space.

“You’re a peer of the King and the Divine and here I am, making fun of your hair and … _licking your lips_!” She covered her face with her hands as she recalled that particular kiss.

Cullen ducked his head down, trying to look through her fingers to meet her eyes.

“But… I’m still the same person.” Through her fog of embarrassment, she could hear the worry in his voice.

“Are you?” Ellana slid her fingers down a little, shyly meeting his eyes.

“I am. And I’m hardly on the same level as the Divine or the King. I’m very surprised you’ve heard my name before.”

Ellana let out an unladylike snort, too caught up in her surprise to be self-conscious about it.

“Cullen! Denerim has been abuzz for _weeks_ with this news. To have the Divine visit Denerim is one thing, to have her in negotiations with two Ferelden men at the same time is a point of pride.” She paused. “Oh, my goodness. That sounds scandalous. I didn’t mean it to sound scandalous.”

Cullen barked a short, surprised laugh. When she met his eyes with a mildly panicked expression, his expression softened and he smiled kindly.

“Should we sit down?”

Ellana nodded. “Sitting down would be good.” Without waiting for him, she crossed the room to her bed and perched carefully on the side of the mattress, her arms tightly at her side. The mattress creaked as Cullen sat beside her.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” He asked, his voice soft and soothing.

“I am. Just… give me a moment to wrap my head around it.”

He nodded and waited patiently.

“You know…” Ellana muttered after a few quiet moments, “even when I worked as a servant in Val Royeaux, we heard the tales about noble ladies swooning over the Inquisition’s commander during the talks at the Winter Palace. You were astoundingly dashing, I’m told.”

Cullen let out a deeply unimpressed noise, almost a growl. “I stood to the side of the ballroom and scowled. How they misinterpreted that into ‘dashing’ behavior is beyond me.”

Ellara giggled, but the sound came out as an odd snuffling noise. “I can actually picture you doing that.”

Picking up on her shaken mood, he carefully shifted himself back on the bed and reached out to rub her back, moving his hands against her with just the right firmness.

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, pausing to brush her hair over her shoulder. She nodded and wordlessly leaned back, enjoying his soothing touches.

“The Winter Palace was not a comfortable place for me." He explained, keeping his voice low and even. "I would have scowled less, but it turns out the Orlesian nobility have very grabby hands.” Ellana could almost feel his frown. “Perhaps now you know why I have an aversion to Orlesian …anything.”

Before Ellana’s could say anything in protest, he quickly amended his words.

“ _Almost_ everything Orlesian, anyway. Although, from the sounds of it, you’ve moved around so much, I’m not really sure where you’re from.”

Ellana let out a long, relaxed breath as his fingers kneaded a spot between her shoulder blades. Void, the gentle pressure felt amazing. It took her a moment to realize that he was waiting for a response.

“I know I don’t really consider myself Orlesian, Cullen. I don’t really call any place home. Not yet, anyway.”

It was true. Between the Free Marches, Val Royeaux, and Denerim, none of them felt truly like a _home._ The Free Marches probably had at some point, long ago, but there was nothing for her there now.

It took her a moment to realize that Cullen had halted his massage, his fingers pausing mid-rub. Ellana made a grumbling noise of protest and the steady pressure resumed.

“Does that bother you?" He asked. "The fact that you don’t really have a home?” His voice sounded strangely attentive to her sharp ears.

She nodded and tilted her head to the side, enjoying the feeling as his fingers worked the muscles deep in her shoulders. It had been a long time since anyone had done such a simple thing for her.

“Yes, a little. I’ll find something better one day, but for now, Denerim will do.”

To her amusement, Cullen’s fingers had stopped again. The man needed to work on his massaging technique.

“Ellana…” Her sensitive ears heard him take a deep, steadying breath. “Come with me.”


	8. Sudden But Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana have The Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had originally planned to post two chapters for this update, but then the final chapter grew to a huge length and I felt odd posting all that.
> 
> With that in mind, I've split this chapter in two. The NEXT update will be the final one, with the last chapter and the epilogue in the same update.
> 
> My apologies. I'm bad at this updating game.

 “Come with me.”

Ellana waited for the shy laughter or clever quip that would brand Cullen’s comment as a playful joke. Instead, his request hung between them for a moment too long.

Confused by the lingering silence, Ellana twisted her long mass of hair in one dainty hand and shifted on the bed to face him.

“Come with me to Skyhold.” Cullen repeated, his warm eyes suddenly very serious.

Ellana blinked, finally comprehending the gravity of his request. This was no banter. He was asking her to leave Denerim, to give up her profession, her _life_ , and to follow him all the way across Ferelden to a remote military stronghold in the middle of _nowhere_.

She swallowed, feeling like her knees had gone out from under her.

“You… mean it, don’t you?”

He raised his blond eyebrows in surprise.

“Of course.”

Creators. He was _serious._

Ellana exhaled hard and turned away from him, her mind spinning. Of _course_ he was serious. In the few days that she had been with him, he had bantered lightly and made the occasional dirty joke, but he had never _teased_ her. Not in a way that could sting the way this could.

“I… can’t say I haven’t thought about it.” She admitted, trying to keep the waver from her voice.

It was true.

Ever since that night on the balcony, she had found herself wondering what it would be like to be with him for more than a simple, lust-fueled tryst. Late at night, as she had lain pressed against his sleeping form, she had giddily imagined what life would be like with him as a real lover instead of a client. Each time she imagined it, the fantasy Cullen would pull her into an embrace and plead with her in a husky voice, asking her to follow him to Highever, or Redcliffe, or wherever he was stationed. It didn’t matter where.

It had just been so tempting to dream of real _romance_ in a place where they only sold a glamorous imitation.

But this wasn’t a storybook tale, and the cold truth of their relationship couldn’t be downplayed. She was a prostitute, plain and simple. An elegant one, perhaps, but a prostitute all the same. To make matters more complicated, he was a war hero; praised by Fereldens and swooned over by Orlesian nobility. He had a great deal to lose if the world learned about _her_.

Ellana dropped her gaze from his and looked away as an unwelcome feeling of shame burned through her.

“Cullen… if the people of Thedas found out that the Inquisition’s great commander brought home a whore… What then?” She willed herself to face him again, dreading his answer.

Cullen frowned and reached out to brush his thumb over the back of her hand in the gentlest of gestures.

“The Void can take anyone who cares about that.” He replied, his brow furrowing with… pity? Frustration? 

“Ellana,” He continued, “I know we never even discussed this, and that I’m probably coming on too strongly, but … I would like your company. Very much. And perhaps I’m reading this incorrectly, but I thought… you might want this too.”

She gave him a small, crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You know I do.”

Cullen expression remained tight, and Ellana knew that he saw her answer for what it was; vague and incomplete.

“I know it’s not a perfect solution, but…” he ran a hand through his hair. “I like being with you. I would rather not leave tomorrow and have all this end here.” 

Ellana looked down at her hands, scrubbing her thumb down her fingers as she considered his request. It was indescribably tempting, but there were so many things to think about. Where would she stay? What could she do for a job? What would people think of her, and more importantly, how would her past affect him?

As she wrestled with her indecision, Cullen shifted closer.

“If you’re concerned about people’s reactions, I have to tell you; your past doesn’t matter, especially at Skyhold. The Inquisitor’s own inner circle consists of a convicted murderer, a unrepentant thief, a few spies, an apostate, and all manner of liars.” 

Ellana arched an eyebrow, feeling her trepidation fade a notch.

“Cullen.” She chided him in a kind tone. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to convince me, or scare me." 

Cullen blinked. “I’m trying to convince you, but I can see the problem with my method.”

“Mmm.” Ellana hummed and shot him an entertained look.

“My point,” Cullen began again, “Is that the Inquisition is filled with all sorts of people – humans, qunari, dwarves, and elves - all of whom have found second chances from previous lives – both good and bad. No one bats an eye at anyone’s past, regardless of what it was like. Trust me on that point.” He added, a bit dryly.

Catching on to his tone, Ellana gave him a flicker of a smile.

“What would I do, though? I can’t just… wander around a giant military fortress all day.”

“I’ve thought about that.” Cullen shifted on the bed, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “The Inquisition will be taking on a different role in the future, but there is still work to be done. Our diplomat could use a new translator, for example. Dagna and Helisma also need more assistants for their research work. If those tasks don’t appeal to you, there are always other things you could do until you find something that you’d prefer to do.”

Ellana carded her hand through her long hair, her eyes distant as she mulled his words over.

“And if you get tired of this arrangement?” She finally asked, addressing her biggest concern. “If we get there and this… whatever this is … ends? What then?”

Cullen gave a short nod, acknowledging her concern, and Ellana was grateful that he didn’t dismiss her question out of hand.

“I think this could work. I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t ask if I felt we couldn’t start something meaningful.” He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw as he thought. “I would never hold you to anything or stop you from leaving if you wished to go. I do think you’d like it there, though.”

Ellana pressed her lips together in a tight line, considering his request. It sounded so good, but she couldn’t ignore the small feeling of doubt that was still clanging around in her chest, making it hard to think clearly.

“I… I want to.” Ellana watched his eyes finally light up, but she barreled on. “Creators, I would love to go, but I owe Madame Simard for the dresses. I can’t just leave now, not without paying for all the expenses she had incurred to bring me here. If I just took off, I’d be essentially stealing. She’d likely go after me with the guards.”

Cullen expression remained vaguely hopeful.

“Is that your only concern? Because I can reimburse her for the cost of the dresses. It’s no issue.”

Ellana shuffled around to face him fully, feeling a fierce swell of stubborn pride flare to life in her chest.

“ _No_ , Cullen _._ Thank you, but I don’t want you to keep paying every time I’m involved. I already feel bizarre enough as it is knowing that the brothel is making a profit off of this.” She gestured between them with her free hand. “I just need to find a way to make this work.” She pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips as she thought hard. She wanted… oh, she wanted this, but she needed to think this through.

If she stayed here, she could make a very respectable income, wear the finest clothes, and never go hungry. On the flip side of the coin, she could also look forward to Sabine’s irrational hatred, grabby clients, and casual racism, not to mention, the constant threat of disease or abuse.

Cullen was essentially offering her a life free of all that. More importantly, he was offering _himself,_ and the thought caused her heart to practically trip over itself with joy.

She could imagine it so easily: Waking up beside him each morning, cuddled against his side under a heap of blankets, chatting easily as a fire roared in a hearth nearby. At night, free from his self-imposed chastity, he could finally fully act on the lust she saw prowling behind his eyes.

Oh, _Creators._

Ellana felt a shiver of excitement run down the spine. Fade take her, nothing about his proposal seemed bad. While the brothel was a clean, comfortable place to work, it couldn’t compete with the promise of genuine _happiness._ Of being with Cullen.

Ellana exhaled hard through her nose. It was just the thought of her debt that shackled her to the brothel.

She looked up to see him holding his breath, watching her with soft brown eyes and a somber mien. Her serious gaze lingered a moment too long and his vulnerable expression flickered as he interpreted her silence as rejection. As the moment lingered, his expression slipped into something akin to sadness.

 _Damnit._ Ellana thought as his face fell _._ He thought she was going to say no.

“Cullen, I’ll come.” She said in a rush, holding his gaze. “Tomorrow, when you leave, I’ll come with you.” 

To her confusion, his eyebrows remained furrowed with doubt.

“Are… you sure? I don’t want to pressure you.”

She tried to laugh, but only managed to make an amused burbling sound, which only made her laugh harder. 

“Oh, _Void_ , that was attractive. And of course I’ll come. I may be worried about the details, but my willingness is real.” She self-consciously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then placed her loose hand on top of his. “I care for you, Cullen. I think… this could be something good.”

Cullen exhaled, relief heavy in his voice.

“Thank the _Maker_.” He grinned. “You won’t regret it. Skyhold is beautiful.”

Ellana cocked her head, smiling with genuine fondness.

“ _Cullen._ Skyhold could be nug-ugly and I’d still go. I’m not going for _Skyhold_.”

Before Ellana could say anything more, he took ahold of her hand and tugged her slight body against his chest, enveloping her in a relieved hug. Ellana smiled excitedly into his damp clothes, deeply thrilled to feel his heart pounding in his chest. She closed her eyes tightly as she listened to the excited thrumming noise, overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness that had flooded her.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.” She remarked, her voice muffled by his damp shirt. She felt the strong need to apologize; to soothe any ache she might have inadvertently inflicted by her hesitation. “I just couldn’t agree to something without thinking it through.”

Cullen placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“I understand.” His mumbled into her hair, his voice was pitched low and thick with emotion. “Thank you. Ellana, you’ll love it. I promise you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be be NSFW.
> 
> Here's my Tumblr! http://sloth-race.tumblr.com/


	9. Fools Rush In (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana discuss their impending departure, until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is primarily smut. If you'd prefer to skip it, the next chapter should be all plot. And punching. There might be punching.

Cullen held Ellana tight to his chest, relishing the warm weight of her, his mind still reeling with one simple fact:

She wanted to come with him.

He had been so _certain_ she was going to say no. That heavy silence between them had lingered for too long and he knew – just _knew_ \- that she was searching for a comforting way to turn him down; a pat on the head to make him feel better. Instead, to his shock, she had agreed to accompany him, practically tripping over her words when she finally spoke.

Diplomatically, he knew that bringing a former courtesan to Skyhold was foolish, but he couldn't bring himself to change his mind. Oh, he would hear about it from Josie and Cassandra, but those were conversations for later. Not now – not when Ellana was pressed against him, all silk and softness and glowing happiness.

He would have been content to sit that way for the rest of the evening, but Ellana soon broke their comfortable silence.

“So, what happens now?”

Cullen shifted, suddenly all-too aware of his rain-dampened clothes.

“I think… the first thing I should do is change. I’d like to find some dry clothing, and then we can plan from there. You’ll also need to pack and be ready fairly early tomorrow morning if we’re to make it to the nearest Inquisition camp by sunset.”

Ellana leisurely unwove herself from his embrace, brushing her blonde hair back from her face. Glancing down her slender form, Cullen could see that her fine silk dress was dark and damp from his own rain-sodden clothing.

“Ah. You’re wet.”

He frowned as he spoke, looking down at her body where his sodden clothing had soaked the bodice of her dress. When he heard no response, he glanced up to see her watching him with startled eyes and a guilty blush heating her cheeks.

_Oh, Void. …Wait…_

“Your dress, I mean. From the rain.” He shot her a sheepish smile.

Ellana looked down at her dress and tugged the offending patch of wet silk away from her stomach, frowning at it as if she just realized it was there.

“Oh.” She replied, colour still staining her cheeks. “I should probably take this off. The dress might shrink if I leave it, and I suspect this thing is worth more than my weight in sovereigns.” She scratched her long ear, seemingly mulling something over. “Would you… ah… get the laces for me?”

Shifting quickly to hide her lingering blush, Ellana turned her back to him and pulled her long hair over her shoulder so he could access the laces that ran up the back of her dress.

Cullen’s mind hummed happily at her request.

Without only a hint of hesitation, he pulled off his gloves and set to work, tugging the laces of the dress open with blunt, careful fingers. Fingers, he thought ruefully, that were rather too large for the frustratingly delicate task set before him. Determined to help regardless, he doggedly plucked at the dainty laces, his lips set in a thin line as he worked. His patience was eventually rewarded when the dress slipped down her back, revealing a V of creamy skin.

Cullen huffed a pleased noise at the sight.

 _Maker,_ she looked soft.

Unable – _unwilling_ \- to stop his wandering hands, he trailed his fingertips down her back, marveling at the foreign sensation of her smooth skin. It was a sad truth, he realized, that these days, he was more familiar with the hard bite of a steel blade and the red haze of pain than he was with the feel of a woman under his hands.

Ellana shivered at his touch, interrupting his morose thoughts, and Cullen found himself making a low, gravelly sound of pleasure as the subtle movement caused the dress to slip even further down her shoulders.

“Ellana…” He murmured, his heart beating harder at the sight. It would be so easy to push her dress all the way down, to see her shiver again in the coolness of the room, her nipples hardening at the sudden exposure.

As if she could read his thoughts, she glanced back and held his gaze, her kohl-lined eyes trained on him in an unspoken question. She said nothing, but lazily held her loosened dress to her chest in a half-hearted attempt at propriety.

“Maker, you’re beautiful.” he sighed, dragging his palm down his stubbled cheek.

She shot him a lopsided smile and turned on the bed to face him, her one arm pressed against her chest to keep her dress from falling. Once she had settled in front of him, he reached out to cup her face in his scarred hand, running his thumb over her cheek.

“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t meet you until after the Breach was sealed. I don’t know if I would have ever gotten any work done.”

She made a happy humming noise.

“Well, now I’m curious. What would we be doing instead?”

He gently pulled her long hair over her shoulder and idly ran his fingers through it, a preoccupied smile on his face.

“Reading your book." He shrugged. "Playing chess.”

“Chess?” Her brow furrowed, more amused than disappointed.

He met her gaze, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Yes. Lots of vigorous _chess_.”

“Oh-hh.” She exhaled as she caught on, her expression becoming dreamy and unfocused.

Cullen took advantage of her abrupt speechlessness to lean in and press a chaste kiss to her slightly parted lips, just enough to taste the red wine that still lingered there. When he pulled back a moment later, Ellana was watching him with faintly reddened cheeks.

“You know,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress. “I wouldn’t mind hearing more about this ‘chess’ we’d be playing.”

He hesitated and tugged gently on a long blonde lock, letting it coil around his finger as he gathered the nerve to speak. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, thudding so loudly he would’ve sworn she could have heard it too.

“Did you want me tell you, or show you?”

Ellana tilted her head, squinting her eyes in mock irritation.

“Are you teasing, Commander?”

“What if it wasn’t?” He asked, hesitating over the words. “I don’t…” He paused, then exhaled through his nose, impatient with his own cowardice. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks colouring even more with his sudden admission.

“You… you’re certain?”

Cullen nodded, knowing it for the truth. There was no point in holding back anymore – Not when he was about to commit the much larger offense of spiriting her away. Not when it was clear it was what they both desired.

“I am certain, yes. But… ah…” he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling awkward, as though he was seventeen all over again. “I’m not sure you’re feelings on the matter.”

“You’re not?” She huffed a shy laugh, her eyes brightening. “Here I thought I was as subtle as a qunari caught in a clothesline.”

Smiling broadly, she pulled her hand from her chest and let the gown slip free of her grasp. The silky fabric slid down her waist like water, pooling under her pert breasts, her pink nipples tightening in the cool air, just as he had imagined. Cullen dropped his gaze, blinking in surprise.

“Fair enough.” He heard himself muttering as he gawked. She barked a bubbly laugh and leaned up to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“If you’re certain, then.”

Seeing him nod, she gingerly took his broad hand in her own, her fingers skating gently over his palm in a way that made him swallow. Hard.

“May I show you what I like?”

“Maker, _yes._ Please.” he muttered, trying to keep the waver from his voice, even as his stomach churned with a bizarre combination of nerves and desire.

Shooting him an almost bashful smile, she flipped her grip on his hand and guided his palm to her chest. He was surprised to feel her hand tremble as she pressed his hand to the gentle swell of her breast.

“Start here,” she murmured encouragingly, her wide eyes on his.

Cullen tested the smooth weight of her breast against his rough palm, deeply satisfied to feel it again. Without being prompted, he reached up and cupped both breasts in his large hands, drawing his thumbs over her hardened nipples. Ellana sighed and he drew his thumbs lower to trace the soft pink skin under her pert nipples, marveling in their softness.

“ _Yes_ , Cullen,” she exhaled, her voice a quiet breath in his ear.

Encouraged, he leaned down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her left breast, focusing on her pale, pink tip. The moment his lips found their goal, she gasped, her fingers twining distractedly in his hair.

“Mmnnh… Harder is good too…” She mewled, leaning back to give him more room.

Cullen smiled against the swell of her breast. She was _responsive_.

With growing confidence, he experimentally sucked the tip of her into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, more roughly than he would have done without her direction. To his satisfaction, she cried out in a broken gasp, gripping his hair in her delicate hands. In the still-functioning part of his mind, Cullen felt a burst of smug pride at her reaction.

He glanced up to see her looking down at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. As their gazes locked, her small, pink tongue flicked out to wet her lip and Cullen couldn’t help but sigh a hot breath against her breast, pleased by the sight.

The warmth of his breath ghosted over her nipple and Ellana uttered a soft, lustful cry; so loud in the otherwise silent room. Cullen’s lips stilled, even as desire pulsed hard through his body.

 _Maker._ He needed to be wearing less.

With that single thought roaring through his mind, he gave her nipple a final, gentle suck and pulled back, leaving her breasts reddened from his eager attention.

“Cullen…” Ellana pleaded as he pulled away, her voice tinged with desperation. It may have been the sweetest sound he had heard in years.

“Hold on.” He mumbled, shifting to edge of the bed. “…I have… too much damned armor on.”

Fingers flying, his pulse racing, he reached down and began flipping his buckles loose, freeing himself from his heavy silverite armor. When the last piece fell away, he grunted in approval and dropped it off the side of the bed, not caring that it landed in a rough pile on the floor. His shirt quickly joined the pile, leaving him in nothing more than his pants, smallclothes, and boots, his erection straining noticeably against the fine weave of his pants.

With the bulk of his clothing discarded, he glanced across the bed to see Ellana watching him, her eyes wide, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Ayez pitié de moi …” she murmured in Orlesian, her voice awed.

Before he could ask what her words meant, Ellana had pushed herself up and tugged her dress off in one fluid motion, determined to join him in his nakedness. With easy, graceful movements, she tugged off her smallclothes and discarded them as well, leaving her sinfully bare before him.

A breath gusted out of him at the sight. His Chantry teachers had warned him about this – about women like her, about the powerful allure of temptation. According to their teachings, he was about to run headfirst down a path of sin and scandal.

 _Maker_. It sounded alright to him.

He began to fumble with the laces of his pants, his broad fingers trying, and failing, to navigate the finicky task.

“I can’t… pants.” He growled after a moment, irritation lacing his voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellana push herself to her knees with an inherently sensual grace, chuckling as she did so.

“Let me try.”

He sighed then, his heart in his throat as Ellana crawled towards him with her eyes locked on his own. In one sinuous movement, she settled onto the edge of the bed and reached over to his pants, pulling him closer with a playful tug on his laces. He took a halting step forward, his knees bumping into the edge of the mattress, before her fingers found their goal. Her nimble fingers, so different than his own, managed to unravel his knotted laces within mere seconds.

 _Clever, talented Ellana_ , Cullen’s mind rumbled with pride.

As soon as the laces hung slack, Ellana gripped his waistband and tugged his pants down over his hips, baring him completely. His pants slid down his muscled thighs and his cock sprang free, the fine hair on his thighs standing up in the coolness of the room. Her eyes raked over him appreciatively and her lips parted in a clear sign of undisguised lust.

“Oh, _Cullen,_ ” she breathed, her once-trembling hands now steady. “Come here.”

Her reaction, rather than making him self-conscious, filled him with a fiery confidence. Emboldened by her words, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and reached for her, rumbling a sigh of happiness as she slid onto his lap, her warm thighs pressing against his own rain-cooled skin.

“Tell me what you’d like.” She murmured, her hand sliding down to palm his cock, finally giving him the attention his body had been aching for. He gasped as her hand glided down to his base with ease, already slick with from his excitement.

He let out a shaky breath as she drew it back up, lazily pumping him, his eyes glazing over at the pleasure of it.

“I want you… under me.” He haltingly admitted, his hazy mind fumbling for the right words as she made another slow, firm pass. “I want to do all the things we read about these past few days.” Ellana shivered, her eyes growing hooded and heavy at the sound of the unconcealed arousal in his voice.

“Bien sûr.” She murmured in Orlesian, the corner of one lip curling up in an encouraging smile.

She slipped off his lap and eased herself down on the bed, spreading her legs in a clear invitation. He wasted no time crawling over to her, savoring the slow drag of his skin against hers as he slid up her flushed body. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he settled himself on her, releasing a ragged breath against her neck as he aligned himself between her warm thighs. His cock nudged up against her wet core and he couldn’t help but huff a low noise of startled pleasure against her throat.

“Cullen…” she sighed happily, her breath tickling the hair near his temple.

 Spurred on by the sheer lust in her voice, he dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the pulse point on her throat, his lips skimming over her skin.

“Show me how to touch you.” He rumbled, reluctantly shifting to the side to let her do just that.

To his surprise, she gripped his hand and dragged it _up_ her body, over her slight curves, towards her mouth. Before his mind could fully register what was going on, she had wrapped her lips around his fingers and sucked the tips into her mouth. Cullen watched in stunned fascination as she swirled her tongue around his first two fingers, tasting him, preparing him for what was to come.

He grunted lowly in surprise, finding himself unable to focus on anything but the soft, swirling flick of her tongue and the heady sensation of his cock pressed snug against her thigh. He subtly shifted his hips against her, desperate for more pressure, more heat, more _anything,_ just to abate the furious need that was rapidly building within his own body.

With a final drag of her tongue, Ellana withdrew his fingers from her mouth and guided them down, sliding his fingers between her thighs.

Cullen’s mind crowed at the sensation. She was absolutely _soaked_ , and a primal part of him wanted to snarl with satisfaction at finding her that way.

Oblivious to his animalistic pride, she guided his two fingers to her clit, pressing them on either side of the small bud. When they were exactly where she wished them to be, she guided his fingers in small circles, her fingers covering his as she showed him where to touch.

“Like this.” She purred quietly in her musical Orlesian accent.

He mimicked her, trying to copy the exact pressure that she seemed to prefer. Apparently satisfied, she released his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, focusing on the pleasure he was bringing her with his broad, warm fingers. Taking her lessons to heart, he kept his fingers pressed to the spot she had showed him, stroking her with gently increasing pressure, watching her body for cues. It didn’t take long before she was flushed and panting, her hands fisting the bed sheets above her head as she pushed herself against his hand, urging him on.

She was almost there. She just needed an extra push.

He latched his hot mouth over her nipple and swiped hard, just as she had shown him earlier. Ellana let out a startled gasp, moaning his name in the filthiest way he had ever heard, her voice cracking in the middle as she pleaded him for more. The desperation of the sound was enough to draw his own low moan; a rumbling noise that hummed across her skin where his mouth laved her.

The sound of his unchecked desire pushed her over the edge and she came hard, arching her body with a gasping cry.

“Keep going.” He growled into her ear, lust flooding through him as he worked her even harder with his broad fingers. Ellana tilted her head back and _keened_ , her eyes clenched shut as she rode out her powerful orgasm with a second broken, shaking gasp.

Finally, when the last waves of her pleasure faded, she slumped back onto the bed, a deep red blush burning all the way down her chest. Cullen gradually stilled his hand and reluctantly drew it away, watching her attentively as her breath began to even out.

Bare, disheveled, and gloriously sated, she finally slid her eyes open and met his gaze with a half-lidded, slightly unfocused look.

“Oh-hh.” She sighed, exhaling a tremulous breath.

Cullen pressed a light kiss to her ear, his lips barely grazing the skin.

“That’s not a word.” He muttered seriously.

Startled at the comment, she laughed and pressed her open hand to his face in playful retribution. Cullen just grinned under her hand, enjoying the sound of her bright laughter.

A moment later, her hand fell away and he shuffled up the bed to lay flush against her body. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, he was still thrumming with four days of pent-up need, his cock still achingly, and very apparently, hard. Her hand immediately slid down to palm him, letting him know she hadn’t forgotten about him. He huffed an appreciative noise against her hair.

“About your book…” He rumbled, drawing the flat of his palm up her inner thigh, lingering where the skin was the softest. “I want to try something from it.”

She hummed in response, languidly pumping him.

“I thought you might.”

Confusion flickered across his face and she smiled at him with genuine affection. “You left the book open to a the same position each time you looked at it."

A blush ignited his cheeks, and Cullen chuckled sheepishly.

“I… didn’t notice.” He replied, his mind too focused on the feeling of her hand for him to be properly flustered.

Seeing his unfocused eyes, Ellana gripped him a little firmer, just enough to make him grunt with satisfaction.

“I like that position, too.” She purred.

The position in question was nothing particularly racy - nothing he hadn’t done before - but there was something about the drawing in the book had absolutely driven him to distraction. It was simple enough, really. The ink drawing featured a dark eyed elven woman lying on her stomach with her legs together and her pert ass arched up. A human male straddled her from behind, his hands gripping her ass as he took her with a look of determined pleasure. The elf’s eyes had slid shut in ecstasy, her lips parted with an approving gasp.

From the moment his gaze had landed on the drawing, all he could do was picture her in the same position, her eyes shut with the same blissful expression.

“On your stomach then.” He ordered her gently.

Ellana hummed, pleased by the directness of his request.

“Just a moment.” She murmured, releasing him so she could crawl up the bed. Cullen watched as she scooted to her bedside table and pulled out a thin, metal box. Flipping the lid, she pulled out a sheathe and shot him a small smile.

“Can’t forget the rules.”

With gentle fingers, she slid the thin contraceptive down his length and then rolled herself onto her stomach. When she lay in position, he moved a muscled thigh over her and used gentle pressure to nudge her legs closer together. Reading his intent, she shifted her thighs closed and angled her hips, causing her shapely rear to arch up in a welcoming invitation. Cullen positioned his cock between her thighs and looked down, only to bite back a curse at the sight.

She was beautiful, her blond hair cascading over her shoulder as she watched him with half-lidded eyes.

“Ready?” He asked shakily, his hand trembling slightly on her hip.

“Creators, yes.” She murmured emphatically into the bedclothes, pushing her ass firmly up against his achingly hard erection. Cullen tried to chuckle at her enthusiasm, but all he managed was strangled chuff as his cock slid satisfyingly into the press of her wet thighs. Unable to wait any longer, he placed a second steadying hand on her hips and guided himself forward, sliding into her wonderful, slick heat.

Oh, _Void._

The sheer intensity of the moment caused him to breathe out a harsh, surprised pant. She was sin and wetness and warmth all at once, and it was all he could do to bite down a deeply blasphemous curse as the head of his cock pushed inside.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and rolled his hips, driving himself deeper into her tight warmth. Beneath him, Ellana let out a ragged gasp of approval as she pressed back against him, letting him sink slowly into her.

He leaned forward, propping himself up with a hand on either side of her body, giving him the leverage to roll his hips. Needing no encouragement, she rocked back to meet him, thrust for thrust. When the rocking of her body alone wasn’t enough, she pressed her palms against the headboard of the bed and _pushed_. Reading her desperate body language, he pressed his face against her graceful neck and thrust harder, setting a rougher pace.

In the back of his mind, Cullen cursed to himself. He wanted to take this slower, to draw their out encounter and leave her breathless from an evening of playful, attentive sex. He wanted to, but their soft and tender lovemaking was fast becoming focused and desperate rutting, with no room for anything in between.

He wanted to apologize to her, to praise her, to tell her exactly how she made him feel. With each thrust, with each encouraging gasp she made, his inhibitions began to fall away and Cullen groaned, wanting nothing more than to breathe his sinful thoughts into her beautiful, tapered ears.

“I’ve wanted this…” He heard himself confessing, his breath fanning across the back of her neck. Underneath him, Ellana let out a pleased whimper.

“Maker help me, your kisses, that second night…” He growled, pressing deep into her, feeling his desire building like a wave rushing to shore. Ellana pushed her cheek against the mattress and moaned, low and dirty, against the pristine silken sheets.

“For days now, I’ve imagined what you’d look like as I took you this way.”

“Mmphf… Cullen!” Ellana muffled a wail into the sheets, her cheeks and ears now thoroughly flushed at his increasingly brazen confessions. Emboldened by the sight, he leaned over and took the tip of one ear between his teeth and nipped gently.

“All I wanted to see was the look that on your face, the way it is right now.” He mumbled lowly by her ear, meaning every damned word.

Somehow, Ellana managed an even more desperate moan as she pushed back against him. _She was so close now_. He nearly snarled with pleasure at the sight of her unraveling underneath him. Unable to form words, he pressed his face against her shoulder and groaned deeply, barely able to focus on anything but the feeling of his own rapidly cresting orgasm.

“Ellana…” He panted hard. “I can’t… I want you to…oh, _fuck!”_

Pressing her palms flat to the headboard, Ellana mewed and pushed hard, intent on driving him over the edge. It worked. The force of his orgasm slammed into him, pushing him over the edge in a wave of pure, rising pleasure. He was vaguely aware of her calling his name as he came hard, all conscious thought scattering. Eyes clenched, his shoulders straining as he leaned over her, he ground down, riding his orgasm out, clinging to the sweet sensation even as it faded.

When the last of the pleasure ebbed, he leaned over her, gasping ragged breaths, his heartbeat thudding audibly in his ears. Weakly, he pressed a slow kiss to her sweat-damped neck and slid out, discarding the sheathe before collapsing onto his back beside her on the mattress. He slung his forearm loosely over his eyes, exhausted and stunned all at once.

“Mm.” She hummed and stretched across the bed like a satisfied cat. Drowsily, he watched her pull a pillow towards herself, and then flip over onto her belly to snuggle down into it.

Pleased at her reaction, he caught her eye and shot her a cocky grin from under his arm. To his amusement, Ellana snort-laughed into the pillow at his smug smile, only to pull it out from under her head and toss it at him in retribution.

His warrior reflexes kicked in and he managed to snatch easily, only to turn on his side and lay his head on it. The act left her pillowless, naked, and huffy, her blonde hair a messy storm from their lovemaking.

Feeling a swell of tender affection for her, he reached out and hauled her against his chest, resting his chin against the top of her head as she lay beside him. A sleepy moment passed before he felt Ellana stir in his arms.

“Cullen?”

“Hmm?” he replied, reaching down to graze his fingers over the skin of her arm in unhurried strokes.

“I’m excited.” She mumbled into his chest and he could almost feel her body humming with exhilaration. It took him a moment for him to understand she was referring to traveling to Skyhold. With _him._

He smiled into her hair, pride and happiness glowing in his chest like the sun.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck, I'm sorry. I wanted to get all of this story posted today, but I ran into trouble with this chapter and had to gut it twice, so the final chapter and epilogue will be delayed. Fwwooo. *hangs over desk, exhausted*


	10. The Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana take their leave.

Cullen was awakened the next morning by a muted thumping noise. With his mind still hazy from sleep, he lifted his head to see if the noise had disturbed Ellana, only to find the bed already empty.

Confused by her absence, he looked over the side of the bed and found her seated on the plush carpet instead, surrounded by small piles of clothing, books, and toiletries. He watched for a moment as she quietly sorted the items into different piles, thinking hard on the fate of each possession.

“Ellana…” he rumbled in a scratchy voice.

Her happy eyes flicked up to his and he noticed that she had already changed. Gone were her delicate flowers and silks, replaced by a pragmatic cotton shirt and dark riding pants. Her long hair, normally intricately braided or worn loose, was now tied back in a fetchingly messy ponytail.

“You’re packing?” He asked groggily. They had spent hours curled up in bed the night before, talking of lyrium, alienages, the breach; all heavy subjects, but all topics that they felt they needed to discuss. It had been enlightening, but exhausting.

“I’m _trying_ to pack.” She hummed, apparently unaffected by the lack of sleep. “It’s fairly frustrating, though. None of this clothing is really suitable for life in the Frostbacks.” She held up a silky green dressing robe, then laid it on what looked to be a ‘discard’ pile. With a pang of disappointment, Cullen noted that the pile seemed to include a rather large number of beautiful looking undergarments.

“So you’re still comfortable with this idea?” He asked, pushing himself up.

Ellana looked up at him again, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“ _Absolutely_.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear in a sheepish gesture. “Actually, I’ve been up for an hour now because I was too excited to sleep much. I decided to pack instead.”

She held up the nearest item as a demonstration, which happened to be a book he hadn’t noticed before.

“ _Swords and Shields_?” He shot her an entertained grin as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I didn’t know you had that.”

Ellana nodded, intentionally ignoring his dubious tone.

“I _love_ it. It’s ridiculous, yet surprisingly clever.” She paused, then narrowed her eyes in a suspicious frown. “Wait. Why do _you_ recognize the cover?”

He pushed himself up from the bed, running a self-conscious hand through his hair as he did so.

“Ah… several reasons, but primarily, it’s because I have a close friend that enjoys it as well.” He crouched down to press a kiss to the top of her head, then hesitated. “… I also may have flipped through it once or twice.”

Ellana’s eyes instantly lit up.

“ _Cullen._ ” She beamed, clearly thrilled at the revelation. “I cannot picture that _at all._ ” He shrugged self-consciously and she shuffled on her knees to face him, her expression rapt. “What did you think of it?”

He blew out a breath, thinking back to the time when Varric had playfully left a copy on his desk, just to work him up.

“Well, for one… it was absolutely littered with absurd euphemisms.” He moved to begin gathering up his clothing. “’Love dart’ is a terrible term.”

Seeing his bland disapproval, Ellana dissolved into a fit of bubbly laughter.

“ _That’s_ the one you remember? Not the part where the guardsmen ‘tugs his nug?’”

Cullen made a face.

“I hadn’t got that far.”

Ellana beamed at his distaste.

“I’ll make sure to pack it near the top of my bag so I can get it for you to read on the way.”

Cullen gave her a flat look and headed to the washbasin to clean up, leaving Ellana to finish packing.

“Cullen... " She continued. "You mentioned that you have a friend who read _Swords and Shields_. Is she... he? at Skyhold? Not that I don’t love your adorable indignation, but it would also be nice to discuss it with someone who enjoys it.”

Cullen just about choked at the idea of Ellana sitting down for tea with the Divine, gleefully debating which of Varric's dirty euphemisms were the best.

“Ah… she’s no longer at Skyhold.”

Ellana made a wordless noise of disappointment and continued to pack up the last few items.

“Ah, well.” She lamented, chewing her lip for a brief moment. “Maybe we can compare notes if she ever comes back to visit.”

Cullen grunted, not trusting himself to answer as he washed up. When he finally looked back to her, she had finished packing and climbed to her feet, slinging the satchel’s strap over her shoulder.

“Before we go, I’ll need to talk with Madame Simard.” She reminded him. “I can also pick up your weapons while I’m down in the office, if you want to get your horse ready.”

“That seems like a sound plan.” He replied, leaving the washbasin to go rummage in his pack for fresh clothes. “I paid up in advance, so my understanding is that I can just take my things and go.”

“I think that’s the idea. It makes things easier in the morning.” Ellana remarked, not at all bothered by the implications of his words.

Cullen made a face as he finished his morning routine, once again unpleasantly reminded of the fact that he was in a _brothel_. Frowning to himself, he tugged on his clothing and set about fastening the straps to his armor. Ellana, meanwhile, surveyed the room, giving every drawer and chest one final look.

“I think that’s it for me.” She remarked a couple minutes later, hefting the strap. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

Cullen studied the room, tightening the final buckle on his vambrace as he did so.

“I’m ready to go whenever you like.” He replied. “Do you have anything else you need to do?”

She shook her head as she walked towards the door, not bothering to give the room a second look.

“Before you woke up, I slipped a goodbye note under the door of my friend’s room.” She remarked as she pushed the door open for him. “I’d say goodbye in person, but I suspect she’s still asleep. Possibly hung-over.”

Cullen nodded and stepped into the hallway. Ellana followed, pulling the heavy door closed behind her. When the metal latch clicked with a solid finality, she turned and beamed up at him.

“Cullen.” She said, placing her hands on his cloth-covered breastplate. “At the risk of repeating myself, I’m excited.” She leaned against him, pressing her forehead against his chest with a dull thud.

He smiled and reached down to tug her close, his hands automatically sliding down to her waist.

“I am too.”

With a roguish grin, he dipped down and pressed a quick kiss to her head before pulling back. “Accidentally ending up in a brothel has been… not _entirely_ terrible.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Ellana grinned, looking up.

He grunted dryly.

“Is this going to be okay though?” Cullen remarked, his mirth fading. “I know that this isn’t my business, but what about your debts? Do you know how you’re going to settle them?”

Ellana shifted in discomfort, glancing away.

“I’ll think of something.”

He gave her a sharp look and gently lifted her bag from her shoulder, hefting it onto his own.

“That’s not particularly reassuring, given that we’re leaving _now_. I can help, if you need it.”

Ellana shook her head, furrowing her brow with determination.

“No, I want to do this on my own.” Seeing his concern, she gave his breastplate a fond pat. “It’ll be fine. I’ll head down to the office now, but I’m just going to take a few things from the kitchen first. We’ll need food for the trip and I’m sure the brothel won’t mind if a couple loaves of bread and some peaches go missing.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Cullen heard a faint sniff of disdain from behind him. He looked up to see Sabine paused in the hallway, watching them with a flatly unimpressed look. The coldly elegant woman held a silver teapot in her hands, as if she had just come from the kitchens.

“Stealing, Ellana?” Sabine’s eyebrow arched. “Why am I not surprised?”

A sharp, irritated look flashed across Ellana’s face.

“Oh, va te faire foutre!” Ellana snarled in Orlesian, her voice tinged with weariness.

Cullen watched as Sabine’s expression changed from coolly unimpressed to barely-contained fury. Without another word, the Orlesian woman swept around the corner and disappeared down the hall, clutching the teapot in a tight grip.

As soon as she had gone, Cullen leaned down to Ellana, his brow furrowed.

“What did you just say to her?”

Ellana glowered after the Orlesian courtesan. “I told her she had another client waiting.”

“Something got lost in translation, I suspect.”

“Perhaps.” Ellana replied, her tone hard. “We should probably go now, though.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes.

“Is this going to come back and bite us?”

“No. Not since we’re leaving.” She hesitated before letting out a weary sigh. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m so tired of being treated poorly by that woman.” She cast a quick look in the direction that Sabine went. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cullen nodded.

“Alright. I’ll go saddle my horse and get the bags secured. Come find me in the stables when you’re done. My horse is the heavy grey one in the middle.”

“Alright.” Ellana pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll be quick.” She remarked, then turned and disappeared down the servants’ staircase, her footfalls muted by the soft carpet.

As soon as she was gone, Cullen turned and strode down the front steps towards the door, eager to be done with the place. Yes, there were good things about the brothel; Ellana, the food, that nice-smelling soap they used on the sheets. Mostly, though, he was eager to leave this place far, far behind him.

Stepping out the door into the early morning sunshine, he made his way across the cobblestone courtyard and into the sunny stable where Calenhad waited. To his surprise, the heavy warhorse nickered happily as Cullen opened the stall door, apparently pleased to see a familiar face.

“Happy to be leaving, then?” Cullen rumbled, running an affectionate hand over the horse’s shoulder. Calenhad turned and whuffled into Cullen’s hair before dipping his head down to lip the edge of his armor.

“Stay still for me and we’ll get out of here. Also, we’re bringing someone with us, so try not to bite.”

Calenhad paused his investigations to eye Cullen.

“Don’t worry.” He said, trying to soothe the giant beast. “She’s small, and you’ll only need to carry her for a day.”

Calenhad huffed and turned to let Cullen brush and saddle him. Taking advantage of the horse’s cheerful compliance, Cullen worked quickly, buckling and tightening the saddle’s straps with practiced motions. By the time he managed to fasten both their bags to the saddle, Calenhad was ready. Ellana, however, had still not arrived.

Troubled by the delay, Cullen led Calenhad out from the stables and stood under the portico, his eyes on the brothel’s back door as he waited for Ellana to appear.

Two minutes passed.

Then five.

Then ten.

Cullen shifted his weight restlessly.

He hadn’t expected her to take such a long time.

Just as he began to feel a twinge of nervousness, the back door swung opened. He let out a relieved breath, only to stifle it when he saw another courtesan step outside instead of Ellana. He recognized the woman; she was the dark-haired Rivaini who had been… entertaining a guest in the lounge when he had first arrived.

She spotted him immediately and jogged towards him, crossing the cobblestones on bare feet.

“You’re leaving?” She asked as she neared him, breathless from her exertions. “Where’s Ellana?”

Cullen gripped Calenhad’s reigns in a tight fist, not entirely trusting the woman. Seeing his guarded look, she spoke up again.

“I’m Vandal. I'm friends with Ellana. Is she with you?”

“No.” Cullen replied, hearing the tenseness in his own voice. “She was speaking with Madame Simard before we left. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Shit.” Vandal remarked, looking back towards the door. “Look. I got her note. I was coming to say goodbye, but… anyway, it doesn’t matter. On the way down, I overheard Sabine talking with the chevalier who works here. That nightmare of a woman is going to call the city guards on Ellana. You know Sabine?”

“I do.” Cullen growled, fighting the urge to run his hand down his face in irritation. “Why in Fade’s sake is she doing that?”

Vandal held her hands up in an exasperated gesture.

“Officially? I think she thinks Ellana is stealing from the kitchens. I didn’t fully hear the whole conversation before I ducked out here. Unofficially, though, it's because Sabine has it out for Ellana and anyone else who ‘sullies’ the reputation of this place.”

Vandal snorted at her own words.

“By the way, it’s a _fucking_ brothel.” She muttered. “Good luck spoiling the reputation of a place that gives handjobs out like free candy...”

Cullen held up his hand, cutting through Vandal’s chatter.

“How much time do we have?”

“Before the city guard gets here?” Vandal pursed her lips. “Ten minutes? Five? Depends on how fast that lazy asshole of a chevalier can run to the guard station.”

“Wonderful.” Cullen snarled. He glanced around to try to find somewhere to tie off Calenhad’s reigns. “Stay away from the horse. He bites. I’m going to find Ellana before the guards do.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, the brothel door opened and Ellana slipped out, clutching a cloth bag and Cullen’s weapons in her arms. Cullen nearly sighed in relief as she smiled brightly and crossed the courtyard with quick steps.

The moment she was within reach, Vandal grabbed her arm and steered her quickly towards Cullen.

“Sabine called the city guard on you.”

“What? Why?” Ellana asked Vandal with confusion as Cullen lifted his weapons from her arms.

“Stealing. That’s what I heard, anyway.” Vandal remarked. “Something about kitchen food, and then maybe dresses?”

“Dresses? What? That’s nonsense. I paid for everything.” Ellana remarked, obviously having a hard time processing the information.

Their conversation was cut short when the back door burst open and the chevalier in question barged through the open doorway with a member of the city guard in tow.

Before Cullen could move, Vandal took an abrupt step towards them.

“Go on!” Vandal ordered him, pushing Ellana towards Cullen. “Put her on that big lump of a horse and get out of here. I’ll handle this.”

Pushing his startled thoughts aside, Cullen hefted Ellana up onto Calenhad with an inelegant shove as the men headed their way.

“Can you ride?” He asked her as she picked up the reigns. 

“I can manage to not steer a horse into a wall, but beyond that… we’ll see.”

“Good enough.” He grunted, swinging up in the saddle behind her as he spoke. Firmly seated, he looked back down to Vandal, only to see her bouncing on her bare feet with impatience.

“You paid up, right?” Vandal asked, delight sparkling in her eyes at the promise of the chaos to come. When Ellana nodded, Vandal beamed. “Oo, Simard’s going to be so mad about this. She's going to come down on Sabine like… shit. I don’t know. Something big. Now go on!”

To punctuate her words, Vandal stepped up and smacked Calenhad on the flank to spur him into action.

Surprised at the sudden stinging sensation, the big warhorse finally lost his patience. Ignoring Cullen’s noise of surprise, Calenhad launched himself down the cobblestone laneway towards the open gate, eager to put some distance between himself and the brothel. Cullen reflexively tightened his grip on Ellana, holding her with a firm grip as Calenhad thundered out of the yard. As they passed the stone pillars by the entrance, he heard Vandal holler after them.

“Write to me!”

Cullen ignored Vandal’s words and hung onto Ellana’s waist as Calenhad barreled down the street with them astride his back, eager to get away from the brothel and its feisty inhabitants. Ellana, who swiftly overcame her initial surprise, awkwardly guided the giant horse down the near-empty road, only reigning him to a stop when they were safely out of view of the brothel.

“Andraste’s ashes!” Cullen hissed, resorting to blasphemy as he felt Calenhad slow beneath him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine." Her words came out in a startled breath. "Are you?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes a little wild.

“At the moment, yes, but Josie is going to kill me. Slowly.”

Ellana shifted in the saddle so she could get a better look at him.

“Who is Josie and why is she feeling murderous?”

“Lady Josephine Montilyet is the Inquisition’s diplomat. She’s going to kill me because I caused a scene at a brothel, made off with a courtesan, and created a diplomatic mess the size of the Abyssal Rift. All while I was supposed to be representing the Inquisition to the King and the Divine.”

Cullen barely managed to finish the sentence as the truth to his words hit him. Maker. If Josie didn’t kill him, Mia would. …With dull spoons and lots of yelling, probably.

“Cullen.” Ellana replied, shooting him a shaky smile. “It’s fine. It's not like you _stole_ me.”

“Maybe not ‘steal’ per se, but you mentioned that you still have dresses to pay for, and other debts to pay off. Sabine was right about that.”

She shook her head.

“That’s not the case, Cullen. While you were in the stables, I spoke to Madame Simard. She wasn’t exactly… pleased with my choice to leave, but I settled up my debts with her. And then some.” She patted his thigh kindly. “You’re in the clear. There are no outstanding debts or charges that will come back to haunt you.”

Cullen frowned, not sure what to make of her words.

“Forgive me, but how did you ‘settle your debts’? You didn’t… threaten her or anything, right?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in alarm.

Ellana rubbed her cheek, her expression darkly amused.

“No, no threats. No punching.” She rubbed her wrist, her eyes becoming distant. “I paid my debts off by bartering with the bracelet I always wore. That emerald and gold thing.”

Cullen frowned, recalling the piece of jewelry. He had never seen her take it off.

“I thought that was precious to you.”

Ellana looked away, her expression somber.

“It is. …Was. But …” She exhaled hard. “It’s just a thing. A difficult thing to part with, but it’s the right choice. I wanted to make it on my own, but I was willfully ignoring the fact that this wasn’t the best way to go about it. My father would have preferred me to study in an old Elvhen fortress anyway.”

She gave a light shrug.

“Besides. I can pay you back now.” When Cullen’s brow furrowed in confusion, she smiled. “The bracelet was a gift of reasonable value; definitely worth more than the cost of my tailoring. Madame Simard knew it, and even gave me some money to make up the difference because she's not an entirely miserable person. That means I can pay you back for all the money you spent to stay at the brothel.”

Cullen bowed his head, awed at the gesture. She had bartered away one of only two items left from her old life, leaving her with only books and the clothing she wore on her back.

“Thank you, but that's not necessary.” He said, unsure of what else to say. Even in his rattled state, he understood that she had essentially given up everything she had to come with him. If he had had any doubts about her sincerity, they disappeared in that moment.

“My pleasure.” She replied with a genuine smile. “Now. Can you take us to Skyhold?"

Cullen took a deep breath and sat up straight, trying to focus on the situation at hand. He would show her his appreciation as soon as he could; right now, they needed to make up time.

“We… hm. We have to leave via the Western gate, then take the highway towards West Hill. It’s straightforward ride, but it’s only fair to warn you - it’s a long trip.”

“That’s okay.” She replied, inexpertly nudging Calenhad into a walk towards the city gates. “I never got a chance to tell you what the book says about Elven lovers.” She shot him a half-smile over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you want to hear it?”

Cullen snorted, feeling his still-racing heartbeat give a little jump.

“You’re going to sit pressed up against me for hours while describing... well... _anything_ from that book? I don’t know if that’s kindness or cruelty.”

Ellana gave a little snort-laugh.

“I didn’t think of it like that. Don’t worry - I can make it up to you tonight.”

Cullen chuckled and wrapped his arms around her tighter as Calenhad walked onward, remarkably more placid now that he was on the road back to Skyhold.

“I suppose I could live with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:  
> Va te faire foutre = Go F* yourself.


	11. Divine Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra gets a letter and two surprising gifts.

Cassandra disliked writing. Detested it, truthfully.

Had she known how much writing was involved in her new role as Thedas' Most Holy, she would have seriously considered passing the Divine’s hat to Leliana. In truth, she would be happy to hand the hat to Leliana regardless; the heavy headpiece was a garrish thing to wear all day.

The hat in question now saw on a nearby chair, discarded hours ago when Cassandra had sat down to catch up with the heaps of correspondence that cluttered her desk. Now, hours later, she had barely made a dent in the massive pile. On top of that, her hand had begun to twinge from the effort of writing, so when she eventually heard a knock on her door, she sighed with relief.

“Come in.” She called, setting her quill down so she could shake out the ache in her palm.

To her surprise, an _Inquisition_ messenger entered, bearing a flat, paper-wrapped package.

“Most Holy.” The man gave a crisp, familiar salute. “I have a package for you from Skyhold. I am to advise you to open this in privacy.”

Cassandra stood and the messenger approached without hesitation, handing her the package.

“Do you know who it is from?” She frowned, surprised at the heavy weight of it.

“Yes, Most Holy. Commander Rutherford sent it. He also advises you to open the letter first.”

She nodded her thanks and the messenger disappeared out the door as silently as he had arrived, leaving Cassandra to frown at the heavy, paper-wrapped package on her desk.

She hadn’t been expecting anything from Cullen. Curiosity piqued, she ripped open the accompanying envelope, as she had been instructed to do. Inside, written in Cullen’s scratchy, impatient handwriting, was a letter.

 

> "Dear Cassandra,
> 
> I realize that more than a month has passed since we last spoke and I have not written to you as I said I would. I have never been good at keeping up with correspondence, which is no excuse for my lack of manners, so I sincerely apologize. The truth is, there something I wished to address with you.
> 
> Last month, during the Denerim negotiations, you might recall that we had a slight disagreement about my… lodgings. I wanted to explain some things that have transpired after we last spoke, in the hopes that you hear this from me and not through gossipy courtiers in Orlais.
> 
> To put it plainly, after we completed our negotiations, I returned to the brothel (Maker, that still unnerves me) where I was staying. Once there, I invited Ellana, the woman I was staying with, to come with me to Skyhold.
> 
>  

Cassandra made an irritated noise in her throat before reading on.

 

> I can only imagine the noise of exasperation you must have made when reading those words, so I’ll do my best to explain myself.
> 
> After spending four days with Ellana, we became rather close. I found her to be a determined and kind woman, someone who was very out of place in such an establishment. During my time with her, I found myself enjoying her company more and more, and vice versa.
> 
> Feeling as I did, I asked Ellana to accompany me back to Skyhold. Rather happily for me, she agreed to come. I am pleased to say that we have been at Skyhold for three weeks now, and she is settling in nicely.
> 
> I suspect that you now think of me as a besotted fool, or that this woman may have some as-of-yet undetermined alternative motives to follow me to Skyhold. I’m not sure how to convince you of her goodness, but I wish to try.
> 
> Most tellingly for me, she has been welcomed with open arms by our colleagues. I believe there is no greater endorsement than this.
> 
> Josie, in particular, seems quite fond of her, although she did have reservations initially. Quite… loud reservations, actually. Reservations that included terms like “irresponsible” and “damage control” and “for Fade’s sake, Cullen”.
> 
> It was all very diplomatic, of course.
> 
> Ultimately, Ellana’s easygoing personality and ability to speak three languages won Josie over. She even recruited Ellana to help handle the piles of less-sensitive correspondence that continue to pour in to Skyhold. Initial reservations forgotten, the two women spend large parts of their days going through letters and chuckling goodnaturedly about … well, me, I suspect.
> 
> Leliana has also taken an interest in Ellana’s knowledge of the inner workings of Denerim’s most elite (notorious?) brothels. As an added advantage, Ellana also has a contact in the brothel nicknamed Vandal Aria (of all things) who has recently risen to the top spot after another courtesan was quickly ousted by the current proprietor. Vandal's knowledge and position may be of use to Leliana, as I'd imagine clients say and do foolish things when they’re smitten with a prostitute.
> 
> Hm.
> 
> When Ellana isn’t helping Josie or Leliana, she spends her days where Dorian left off, voraciously reading books from the library. (She insists on reading outside, since Leliana’s damned ravens are as loud as ever.)
> 
> In an effort to be ‘more useful to the Inquisition’ (as she puts it), Ellana has also taken up archery. I’d like to tell you that she has a natural affinity for the weapon; that she has an inborn grace that has made her skilled in very short order.
> 
> She doesn’t.
> 
> Maker, she is downright _terrible_ so far. More often than not, she ends up fumbling the arrows as she nocks them, or scraping the skin off her forearm as she releases the bowstring. She’s a good sport about it though, and I often see her laughing long and hard in the courtyard as she flounders through her lessons.
> 
> All this to say:
> 
> Ellana is happy, and so am I. I know you likely don’t approve, but I must tell you that I am more content than I have been in... many years. More often than not, Ellana sits beside me in bed with a book in her lap, reading interesting passages to me with a kind of delighted fascination. She is affectionate and stubborn, and without getting into too many cloying details, I am very happy with her. And she with me, miraculously.
> 
> Cassandra, forgive me. This letter has been far more sentimental than I intended, and I had a second purpose for it. Specifically, I wish to thank you for your unwavering loyalty to me. When I spoke to you in Denerim, you had expressed a rather stubborn concern for my well-being. Even though I didn’t precisely take your advice, I will be forever grateful for your genuine friendship and desire to protect me from my own seemingly foolhardy decisions.
> 
> As a token of my appreciation, and to act as penance for alarming you with my admittedly brash behavior in Denerim, I’ve enclosed a gift. Two actually, although the second is not from me. Without trying to sound too ominous, I recommend that you open them without others present.
> 
> Be well,
> 
> Cullen

Cassandra arched a slim eyebrow at Cullen’s mysterious warning and placed the letter down. Her curiosity now piqued, she ripped the brown paper off the package to reveal two matching books, tied together with simple twine. Unlike their plain paper wrappings, the books were expensive-looking tomes, bound with emerald green cloth covers and stamped with golden text.

Her curiosity mounting, Cassandra untied the twine and picked up the first book, entitled “ _Growing Your Own Spindleweed_ ”.

She frowned, vaguely recalling something that Cullen had said something about that title during her visit to Denerim. Running her hand over the cloth, she thought for a few moments before she realized why she had heard him say that.

“You didn’t!” She muttered under her breath as she excitedly flipped the book open. To her delight, a second cover was bound immediately inside the first, announcing the book’s true contents: the newest volume of _Swords and Shields_.

Cassandra exhaled lowly and touched the printed lettering reverently, her eyes bright.

“Oh, Cullen.”

With a happy sigh, she slumped back in the chair, holding the beautiful book in her lap. She admired it for several long, appreciative moments, then lazily reached out and pulled the other book into her lap as well. The second book was bound in a similar fashion, along with the title “ _More Ways to Grow Your Own Spindleweed_ ”. Seeing his choice of titles, Cassandra sniffed with amusement at Cullen’s lack of creativity.

Unlike the first book, however, there was a folded note sticking up from the pages. Cassandra tugged it free and flipped it open, reading a few lines of text.

 

> “Forgive me. I’m sure there’s a special spot in the Fade for me because of this, but Ellana heard that I had a friend who liked _Swords and Shields_ and she wished to send this along with my initial gift. She thought that (as a fellow purveyor of questionable literature) you might like this. She informed me that this second book makes a great reference book for the material in _Swords and Shields_.
> 
> I should note that she doesn’t know your identity. Also, please do your best to avoid punching me on sight the next time we meet."

For a split second Cassandra frowned, confused at his message. It was only when she flipped open the book did she realize why Cullen would need forgiveness.

What she had expected was to see another volume of _Swords and Shields_. Instead, the inside cover bore the title _The Art of Love_ accompanied by a drawing of stylized heart. Uncertain of the content, she flipped the newly printed book open, eager to get a feel for the writing. Instead of text, however, her eyes fell on a scandalous ink drawing of couple engaged in a wildly lascivious act.

Thedas’ Most Holy stared in shock for a moment before she slammed the cover shut with both hands, feeling her cheeks turn bright pink with shocked embarrassment.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” She hissed into the empty room. She kept her hands pressed down on the cover as if to keep all the sinful ideas from spilling onto the desktop. Her cheeks flushed and her pulse racing, she looked up, only to see single painting of Andraste staring back, watching her with coolly judgmental eyes.

Cassandra exhaled hard through her nose, her mind clambering with all the things she would write to him when she replied to his letter. Where had he even found this book? How had he got them bound? … Why did Ellana think it went well with _Swords and Shields_?

Cassandra slid her hands off the cover and stared down at the golden lettering with a small frown.

Perhaps… well. Perhaps she needed to investigate further.

With reluctance, she pushed her new copy of _Swords and Shields_ aside to make more room for _The Art of Love_. She flipped the cover open, ignoring the blush that was now steadily burning on her cheeks, and began to read the introduction.

* * *

An hour later, _Swords and Shields_ remained closed on her desk, still unopened. Cassandra, meanwhile, sat curled in her padded chair, reading with rapt fascination with the barest of smiles curving her lips.

Ellana, she thought as she flipped a page, truly had her blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! There we go.  
> I'm going to try writing a story back in regular, non-AU Thedas now, so we'll see how that goes. 
> 
> Also, thank you guys. Time after time you guys have left lovely, supportive comments. I appreciate that more than you know.


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